


I Think She Knows

by stevierosebudds (vulcantastic)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, mom issues, stevie actually also drinks white wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcantastic/pseuds/stevierosebudds
Summary: Post-"Happy Ending." Stevie is sorting out her feelings for a certain Rose, and it's not the one you think.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose, Stevie Budd & Patrick Brewer, Stevie Budd/Alexis Rose
Comments: 144
Kudos: 255





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Stevie/Alexis will NOT leave my brain alone. IDK where this story is going, but I'm in quarantine and may as well have fun on the ride. Enjoy!
> 
> Title is taken from the song "I Think She Knows" by Kaki King, which is based off Justin Timberlake's "LoveStoned."

Stevie sighed, leaning back against the chair at the front desk that squeaked whenever she moved. Mr. Rose had been telling her to replace it for probably a year now, but it had always seemed like too much effort. 

Plus, it was a reminder. Anytime she hopped into the worn chair and the _creeeaaaaak_ filled the room, she heard Mr. Rose’s voice, annoyed but tinted with affection: “Stevie, we really have to replace that chair …”

It had been a couple of weeks since Mr. and Mrs. Rose and Alexis had left Schitt’s Creek. Since then, the town—which was quiet to begin with—had started to fall back into the lazy inactivity that had been interrupted three years ago when the Roses made their ostentatious entrance and changed it forever.

_Room 7 needs a turndown._

She blinked back the ridiculous tears that still managed to creep up behind her eyes whenever she thought about the Roses. David was still here, of course, and they both spent a lot of time _definitely not talking about_ how much they missed having the family around.

But this was a new start for everyone. That could only mean good things, right?

The front door creaked as Roland shuffled in, nodding at nobody in particular. “Yeah, uh, I think Room 4 needs a restock on that shampoo from Dave’s store.”

Stevie blinked. “No one’s staying in that room right now, Roland.”

Roland leaned over the front desk. “Hey…Stevie. Smell my hair.”

Another sigh escaped her lips. She still couldn’t believe sometimes that Mr. Rose had entrusted her and Roland— _especially_ Roland—to manage the franchising of Rosebud Motels in the area. But Roland was learning, and honestly, it was nice having someone to sort of boss around.

Her phone buzzed and she reluctantly reached for it across the desk. She was expecting a text from Ray about the latest Rosebud acquisition about 30 miles south which “might have mold, but I can’t tell if that’s just how the ceilings look.”

However, she was surprised to find a message from an altogether different person.

**Alexis [Received 10:22am]  
** Hey girl!

Stevie smiled. She and Alexis had exchanged texts pretty often during David and Patrick’s wedding planning, but that had really been the extent of their digital communications—until now. She had to ask:

**[Sent 10:23am]  
** Hiya. To what do I owe a communication from THE Alexis Rose?

**Alexis [Received 10:24am]  
** Just checking in! :) How u doing?

Stevie quirked an eyebrow. Even at her most altruistic, Alexis was always sort of half-engaged when it came to a two-sided conversation. She was one of those people who was thinking of what she’d say next while you were talking. Stevie didn’t fault her for it—it was just Alexis, and the Roses were nothing if not consistently idiosyncratic—but for Alexis to ask about Stevie? _First_?

She tried to be nonchalant in her reply.

**[Sent 10:24am]**  
Things are good. We’re working on remodeling one of the motels we acquired last month. How’s New York?

 **Alexis [Received 10:25am]  
** Great!!! Miss u tho!!!

_Miss_ you?

Stevie stared at the message, unblinking. Her eyes started to blur.

“—Stevie. _Stevie_.” Suddenly Roland’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. 

“Sorry. What?”

“Geez. Your face is all red.” Stevie cleared her throat and tossed her phone to the other side of the front desk as Roland continued, “I’m going down to Storboro to meet Ray at our newest conquest. You know that place used to be the old Five-Star? Ha! More like _zero-star._ Did you know the ceiling is covered in—”

“Yeah,” she cut him off. “Mold. Got it. Call me when you get there.”

Stevie greeted a couple who had come to check in and went about her day. She definitely did not glance at her phone every thirteen seconds, waiting for it to buzz again. And she definitely did not think about the night of David and Patrick’s wedding.

* * *

_It’s hours into the reception at Cafe Tropical, and Stevie has tears in her eyes. She’s been crying on and off since the moment she saw her best friend walking down the aisle, but this time, it’s from laughter. Patrick has managed to convince Ronnie (their last-minute DJ) to prank David by playing “Cotton-Eyed Joe,” and it appears every single guest has hopped up to dance in unison._

_David is absolutely horrified, watching his new husband kick and spin and shout the occasional, “Yee-haw!”_

_“We’re getting divorced, just so everyone is clear!” David shouts over the music._

_He meets eyes with Stevie pleadingly which makes her laugh even harder and_ almost _inspires her to join in on the fun. Almost._

_“Oh em gee. Is this like, a town dance from back in the day or something?” Alexis has materialized next to her at the counter-turned-bar, sipping a glass of white wine._

_Stevie bites her lip in an attempt to stifle her laughter. “Oh, yeah. The ‘Cotton-Eyed Joe’ is an ancient Schitt’s Creek tradition. Ours alone, for sure.”_

_"That’s_ so _cute.” Stevie looks at her incredulously. Blonde hair unpinned, cascading down her back. A mildly intoxicated crooked grin on her face. She casts a glance at Stevie, blue eyes alight even in the dim room. “I can’t believe they’re married,” she sighs._

_Stevie looks out onto the dance floor. The song had changed to a slow ballad, and David and Patrick had managed to reconcile their song choice grievances in time for the first verse. A familiar sight: David, his arms wrapped around Patrick’s shoulders maybe just a little too tight, like he’s afraid he’ll disappear, and Patrick, holding David’s waist and looking up at him like he’s the only person in the room._

_“I know,” Stevie agrees, unable to hide her millionth cheesy grin of the day. “It’s gross how happy they are.”_

_“Right?”_

_Stevie clears her throat awkwardly, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I never really got to say, um. I’m sorry about Ted.”_

_The mention of his name causes something to flash across Alexis’ expression—but she waves her free hand in dismissal. “Thanks. But it’s okay. I’m so happy for him. And he’s like,_ so _happy for me. So.” She smiles thinly. “Who knows. Maybe we’ll cross paths again someday.”_

_Alexis, ever the romantic. Stevie picks up her beer from the counter just as an upbeat song that Stevie sort of recognizes starts to play._

_“Ooh! This one is so good.” Alexis slams her glass down at the bar. “Come on!”_

_Before Stevie can utter a syllable of protest, Alexis is grabbing her hand, leading her onto the dance floor. She immediately starts bobbing her head, shimmying her shoulders, movements effortless._

_Stevie can feel herself growing bright red as she tries to keep up. Stevie_ doesn’t dance. _Except now she does? She does a few step-touches here and there, calling on her_ Cabaret _rehearsal memories as Alexis says encouragingly, “There you go! Yes, girl!”_

It’s like I’m powerful with a little bit of tender  
An emotional sexual bender  
Mess me up, yeah, but no one does it better  
There’s nothing better  
That’s just the way you make me feel

_“You know,” Alexis leans in to half-shout over the music, “You look really good tonight.”_

_Stevie blinks. Looks down at her loosened bowtie, disheveled suit, mussed hair. “Um…nah. No. Thanks though,” she chokes out._

_“You do! You’re giving me ‘gender-neutral windswept’ vibes. I love it.”_

_Stevie sucks in a breath, very ready to turn the subject to Alexis’ favorite topic. “Well,_ you l _ook—”_

_“Aww,_ thanks _!” And Alexis pumps her fist to the beat of the music, giggling wildly. And Stevie can’t help but let out a one-syllable laugh, taking in the tall woman in a not-wedding dress dancing around in front of her. She thinks it’s probably the beer, but she finds herself grabbing Alexis’ hand and spinning her around, much to the latter’s glee._

_“Look at us,” Stevie says, “Sally and the Kit-Kat girl. Sharing a floor again.”_

_She realizes how stupid it sounds as it tumbles from her mouth, but Alexis smiles even bigger, the kind that makes her nose scrunch up. “Yeah! Except way less choreographed and my mom isn’t screaming at us.”_

_Stevie snorts as the song fades out, and she keeps telling herself to stop grinning like a freak, but for some reason she can’t. She normally thinks of smiles like things to be rationed out over the course of several years. She supposes today is a rare exception._

_“Mkay, speaking of my mother.” Alexis looks past Stevie, who follows her gaze and notices Mrs. Rose stumbling toward the exit, Mr. Rose’s arm around her. “I’m gonna go—Mom is_ shitfaced _and I need to help Dad make sure she doesn’t have a pre-California meltdown.”_

_What’s left unsaid, Stevie knows, is that this is the Roses’ last night in town, and sloshed or not, Alexis wants to spend some time with them._

_“A bold feat,” Stevie acknowledges. “Godspeed.”_

_“Thanks.”_

_And Alexis leans down and gives her a kiss on the cheek. Just like that. Amongst all the dancing and laughing and clinking glasses, in the middle of the dance floor, where it would be impossible for her to make a scene or for people to really see. There was a subtlety to it. Which, to Stevie, seems to be the antithesis of Alexis Rose’s entire existence._

_Alexis pulls back and flounces toward the door. “See you later!” She calls behind her._

_Stevie lifts a hand to wave after Alexis is long gone. Her body is still catching up to her brain._

_She doesn’t really register anything that happens after that. She recalls staying to help pack up all the decorations and equipment after everyone has made their way out of the cafe. She recalls walking all the way home. Can’t bring herself to turn on the lights, because they would be harsh and cruel and tell her, “Stop reading into things.”_

_She only drinks red wine._

_Right?_

_And Stevie tries to go to sleep that night. She really does. But as she stares up at the pitch-black ceiling, wide-eyed, she can’t stop replaying the evening over and over. The softness to Alexis’ tone, and the softness of her…_

You look really good tonight.

_Something settles in Stevie’s stomach. Warm, jittery. And all-consuming._

_When the Roses bid their goodbyes early the next morning, she hears Alexis say she hasn’t slept all night._

_And Stevie lets herself wonder, for a brief second, if it’s for the same reason Stevie didn’t._

* * *

“Patrick, if you want us to stay married, you’ll remove those wine glasses from that box.”

Stevie finished folding a kitchen towel in a cardboard moving box, watching her newly married friends with affection and amusement. Of course, David had called to invite her for a movie night and wine, both of them knowing very well it was a ploy for her to come to Patrick’s and help them pack for their new house.

“Why?” Patrick held up a glass wrapped in newspaper in either hand. “I think they fit fine! I’m optimizing space.”

He glanced at Stevie, wiggling his eyebrows a bit before turning back to David in mock-seriousness as the latter failed his arms.

“If you look at my packing notebook, you’ll notice I’ve indicated wine glasses will go in their _own_ box with the tumblers and Moscow mule set. If you’re going to throw them _just_ anywhere, we may as well have kept using them tonight instead of these gross red solo cups—”

“Can you believe I still had these left over from my housewarming party?” Patrick said to Stevie, bulldozing over David’s hysteria. 

“They really add to the experience,” Stevie deadpanned, “I think the plastic is melting into the wine. Really rich flavor.”

“ _You_ are the worst,” David said, pointing at Patrick. He then turned to Stevie. “And _you_ had better be folding the towels correctly or I may have to fire you.”

“You’re not paying me, David. And what exactly are _you_ doing?”

David scoffed, “Um. Clearly I’m supervising so the both of you don’t screw up my meticulous planning.”

She grinned, picking up another towel from the pile on the couch. “I heard from Alexis today,” she said, because for some reason she had been wanting to tell them.

"Oh, yeah?” Patrick piped up, “How is she?”

David placed a hand over his chest, offended. “Rude. I haven’t heard from her in, like, two days. And I keep texting her pictures of decor I’m going to buy for the house and not tell Patrick about until it’s already here.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Patrick said absently, topping off Stevie’s wine “glass” and then his own.

David’s eyes twinkled. “I’m kidding. Sort of.” He closed the space between himself and Patrick, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing the side of his head. “‘Kay, what are we we watching? Any answer besides _Miss Congeniality 2_ is incorrect.”

As the boys squabbled over which film to pick, Stevie reached for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. Stared at it for several seconds.

No matter how much Stevie loved being with David and Patrick, something since this morning had been nagging at the corner of her mind. Something felt … missing.

She typed out what she’d been debating sending to Alexis all day.  


**[Sent 7:04pm]**  
Miss you too


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie has a shitty day. Then she gets a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I appreciate all the interest this fic has garnered. Still don't know how many chapters it will have; I'm thinking 5-7. And if it wasn't obvious, this is gonna be a slow burn. I love a good slow burn.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Alexis is all legs and all over Stevie._

_Pinned to the bed, Stevie grasps Alexis’ hips as Alexis slowly unbuttons Stevie’s worn-out shirt. In the dark, her eyes shine._

_“You ready?” Alexis asks, something primal reaching out in her voice, almost from the back of her throat and unlike anything Stevie has ever heard from her before. She can’t make herself do anything but nod._

_Because Stevie has never wanted anything so much._

_Alexis dips her head to Stevie’s exposed chest, and the heat of her tongue, wet on her skin, makes a long trail up between her breasts, along her collarbone, to the side of her neck where Alexis leaves a playful bite._

_“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Alexis whispers, the huffs of her exhales tickling the spot just below Stevie’s right earlobe._

_Stevie has no idea. Well, she has some ideas, but she doesn’t want to think about them right now. She brings her hands up to brace Alexis’ back, running her fingers along her delicate spine, stroking her shoulders, letting her fingers dance along Alexis’ neck._

_Alexis leans back a little to meet her eyes, and Stevie can’t stand any space between them anymore. She tilts her head up, cupping Alexis’ face with one hand and tangling her fingers in thick blond locks with another._

_Their lips crash together—_

She awoke twisted in her sheets, that little fire in the pit of her stomach fluttering. Ignited. 

Stevie ran a hand down her face, flopping back against the pillows, and said to the room, “Fuck.”

Picking up her phone from the bedside table, she tried to stop her hands shaking. Still no messages from Alexis since Stevie’s last text two days prior. Of course not.

Because why would Alexis have missed her? When she wrote, “Miss u,” she had clearly meant the plural “you”—meaning Stevie, David, Patrick, Twyla, and probably the general vaguely-sad-yet-charming aesthetic of the town.

_Not you, idiot._ She swung her legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through her sleep-mussed hair.

She got up. Brushed her teeth. Turned on the shower water, shuffled over to her closet to grab her outfit. The shower water was hot on her skin. Stevie looked down at her hands. They were bright red.

* * *

It wouldn’t be the first time Stevie stood in front of an old white dude wanting to punch him in the face.

Henry Parks, the contractor she had brought on to revamp the newest local Rosebud Motel (née The Five-Star), was explaining the work that would have to be done in each guest room.

Except it was less like an explanation and more like a talking-to, like Stevie was a kid swimming in a too-big pant suit. He spoke slowly—too slowly—as if one big word would throw her off, and she found herself tapping her foot as his voice droned on.

“…So like I said on the phone to Roland,” he continued, looking her in the eyes as if chastising a child, “We’re looking at about 3 weeks, 4 tops for the full scope of the project. Got it?”

“Yes. Got it. I understand,” Stevie replied just as slowly, nodding seriously as she made a few seconds out of every syllable.

Henry furrowed his brow a bit at her tone, and she figured he couldn’t hear her as he was walking away when he muttered under his breath, “Not like you know how this stuff works anyway…”

She took a deep breath. Clenched her fists. Pivoted. Stopped.

“Oh, by the way.” She whirled back around, and a hint of nausea grazed her stomach as she caught him looking her up and down. “I’ve run the Rosebud Motel in Schitt’s Creek for a very long time. So. I actually _do_ know how this stuff works.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and took a couple of steps toward him. He had at least a foot on her, and she peered up at him, gaze unwavering. “Listen. I know you’re new to the contracting game, Mr. Parks. Friend of a cousin of Roland’s, right? Mr. Rose wanted to give you a chance to kick off your indie business. He’s nice like that.”

Henry looked like he wanted to bite her head off, and she resisted the urge to burst into a grin.

“But based on previous experience with this kind of construction, and considering the level of finish we want for the ceiling, I think you’re actually underestimating the time frame. It’s probably going to look more like 5 to 6 weeks. Unless you want to a do a really shitty job. And we’d know if you did. But don’t worry.” She patted the side of his arm. “The Rosebud Group already budgeted for your miscalculation.”

Stevie turned on her heel once more, not bothering to stay to see the contractor’s reaction.

* * *

She shuffled into Rose Apothecary a few hours later, just as Patrick was closing up the cash register.

“Can I apply the ‘friends and family’ discount to that fancy whiskey you guys just got in? Like, 7 cases of it?”

“Absolutely not!” David called from the back room while Patrick asked, “You okay?”

“Just a shitty day. Are men cancelled yet?”

“I mean, just about.” Patrick walked around from behind the counter toward the door, flipping the store sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’ “There are a precious few stand-up gentlemen left. Right, David?”

“Hmm?” David sauntered from the back room, playing with his wedding ring absently.

Stevie shook her head. “He wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about him. I mean.” He gestured down at himself. “Clearly I’m the ideal.”

“Of course,” Stevie replied, a smirk fighting its way to her face. Even on her worst days, she could count on these two goons to lift her spirits. (It was cheesy and stupid and she would never tell them that.) (Ever.)

David draped his arms loosely on Patrick’s shoulders. “What are we talking about?”

“Nothing you don’t already know. Like how you’re married to a god.” Patrick’s hands found David’s hips, and ah, yes, there were the Brewer-Roses, being gross again.

“Hmm. A god of poor button-down choices, maybe.” Patrick gasped in mock-horror, and Stevie added, “Yikes, dude, yeah. Are those little pugs on your shirt?”

“They’re goddamn _cute_ and I got loads of compliments.”

“Okay, a compliment from Jocelyn doesn’t count.”

“Yes, it does!”

“Stevie, tell him how wrong his shirt is.”

Stevie sucked in an apologetic breath. “I mean, if my previous comment didn’t make it clear, your shirt _is_ ... a choice.”

“How dare both of you deprive me of one of my few pleasures in this life…”

They could do this for hours, if they wanted. Stand around and talk like this, or not even talk at all. It was the kind of thing Stevie had never experienced before the Roses had sashayed into Schitt’s Creek and now couldn’t imagine her life without. 

“We’re doing sushi tonight,” Patrick said. “You wanna join?” He was always the one to offer, because David had no concept of socially acceptable interactions.

Either way, she was going to pass. David was looking at Patrick with an obnoxiously soft look in his big brown eyes that indicated her best friend might prefer a night alone with his husband. And Stevie had a date tonight with a half-empty bottle.

She opened her mouth to say just that when her phone buzzed. Stevie felt the heat creep into her cheeks when she looked at the screen.

Alexis was calling.

“Um,” Stevie stuttered, “I’m—I’m good, thanks. You guys have fun. I gotta run—see you? Um. Later.”

_Very smooth._ She caught a glimpse of both their perplexed faces as she practically ran out the door.

Stevie cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and said with as much nonchalance into the phone as she could muster, “Hey.”

And Alexis said, “Stevie!”, and the particular trill of her voice—sweet and shrill and silly and persuasive and charming all at once—filled the cool evening air.

“Hey,” Stevie repeated, and then immediately wanted to ram her head against the nearest tree.

“How are you? Have you killed David yet? I wouldn’t tell anybody if you did.”

Stevie chuckled, beginning the slow walk to her apartment. “All I’m saying is they won’t be able to find the body for years.”

“The other day he _told on me_ to Mom and Dad because I didn’t share my opinion about a set of tea towels in time for him to make a purchase. _Told. On me._ He’s 37.” 

“That tracks,” Stevie said, taking note of the fact that she was taking note of the twinkling laughter in Alexis’ voice. _Jesus. Get a fucking grip, Budd._ “But um, yeah. Stuff is good. Motel is good.” She fished through her mind frantically for something interesting to say. How did one hold the attention of Alexis Rose?

As was her wont, Alexis solved the problem by doing the talking for her. “Well, I just wanted to call. It’s so weird not being there. Everyone in town, is, like, good?”

“Yeah! Um. Gwen got a girlfriend,” Stevie supplied.

A short gasp on the other line: “You mean Bob, right?”

“Oh, no. I mean Gwen.”

“Yes, queen! It’s _what she deserves._ ”

Stevie stifled a laugh at Alexis’ enthusiastic responses, and then felt her face growing hot when Alexis asked once more: “But how are _you_ doing, though?”

Stevie tried not to wince audibly as she approached her front door. She hated talking about herself. And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d answered a question like that genuinely. So she found herself blurting out:

“You keep asking me how I am.”

“Um, because I, like, _want to know_ ,” Alexis replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you think your friends want to know how you’re doing?”

Stevie shrugged, even though Alexis couldn’t see. She held the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she fumbled for the keys.

“I dunno,” she said, “I just figure you have more important things to do. Or, you know, people to talk to.” Stevie immediately bit her bottom lip hard, as if that would take the words back.

She turned around and leaned back against the door, closing her eyes. _You’re being an asshole. Stop being an asshole._

Another few beats. Then, with a tiny tremor in her voice, as if Alexis was forcing each syllable from her lips: “New York is really big, and loud, and fun, and sexy, and super bright. But it’s also…kinda lonely. So.” She let out a one-syllable laugh in what seemed to be an attempt to cut into the solemnity of the admission. “I like talking to you.”

Stevie blinked. Peered up at the stars winking at her in the sky, trying to ground herself. 

“Um,” she said eloquently. “Me too.”

“‘Kay. Glad we talked that out. Love that for us. You gonna answer my question now?”

The tease in her voice brought Stevie back to the moment, and she smiled.

Fine. Maybe it was okay for someone to ask how she was.

And maybe it was okay for Stevie to answer.

She walked into her dark apartment, flipping on the lights. She thought of Henry Parks and his know-it-all grin and said, “Actually, I’m finding the guys we hired to work on some of the motels are total dickheads. Lots of mansplaining.”

“Ugh, tell me about it!” Alexis all but yelled, and Stevie could practically see her waving her free hand around emphatically. “I had meeting with a potential freelance client last week who told me he was excited about the ‘bonus’ he’d be getting from hiring me. I asked him what that was, and he just looked at my boobs for like, 30 seconds. _The bonus was my tits_.”

Stevie dropped her keys on the kitchen table, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. So, um, I’m obviously not going to work for him. Fuck guys, right?”

“Fuck guys,” Stevie retorted wholeheartedly. She opened up her refrigerator, wherein her trusty friend Smirnoff was beckoning. She stared at the bottle for a long moment.

“—Stevie? You still there?”

“Yeah! Yeah. Sorry.” A stiff drink. That’s what she’d wanted. It was the only thing that would make her feel better about an awful day, she’d told herself.

And yet.

And yet, she closed the fridge, leaving her usual means of companionship behind for the night as she prompted Alexis:

“Tell me all about your new place. Make me jealous.”

Stevie kicked off her shoes as Alexis started explaining the in’s and out’s of the Upper East Side. She flopped down on her bed, her free hand bracing the back of her head. If she closed her eyes, it was like Alexis was right next to her as she chatted away, asking for her advice on a dodgy neighbor and telling her she saw a woman on the subway that looked like Stevie except the texture of Stevie’s hair was _so so so_ much better.

It was almost like nothing had changed.

But, as Stevie realized her face was starting to hurt from the stupid grin she’d been wearing just at the sound of Alexis’ voice, she knew that wasn’t true.

For Stevie, _everything_ had changed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie's had a long week, and it's starting to catch up to her. She decides to call Alexis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you SO much for reading and commenting on this! I'm having a blast writing it.
> 
> In this chapter we get a little bit of a glimpse into Stevie's past, which I definitely made up, and I can't really recall anything in the show that would contradict it. As far as we know, besides for her Aunt Maureen and Grandma Budd, there isn't much to go on re: Stevie's family members. I think Dan Levy said in an interview once that Stevie was named after Stevie Nicks since her dad followed the Fleetwood Mac tour before she was born. Which. Is AMAZING.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Slow Friday mornings looked a lot like this: Cafe Tropical, near empty, the wafting scent of eggs and bacon moving back and forth between the kitchen area and the front as Twyla bustled about with piles of plates. Stevie, sitting at the counter with her laptop, typing up some emails, poring over spreadsheets, and occasionally people-watching at the window. She’d been friends with David long enough to start ranking the outfits of passers-by.

“The usual?” Twyla had materialized in front of her somehow without Stevie noticing, and Stevie nearly jumped. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.” Roland was manning the front desk at the Rosebud (God help any new guests), and this gave Stevie some time to catch up on some communication.

As interacting with people was a task she tried to avoid in general, emails and phone calls had never really been her strong suits. But she found being in charge of this branch of the Rosebud Group was sort of forcing her to do those things, and it was at the very least least good practice. And with no one lurking over her shoulder, she could do those things at her own pace.

As if reading her mind, Twyla said, “Being your own boss is so awesome, right?” She set a cup of espresso in front of Stevie. “I’m so excited to get started on this cafe. I’m thinking about renovating!”

“That’s great!” Stevie said, unable to keep from smiling at her friend’s enthusiasm. It had come as quite the shock to everyone that Twyla had saved up enough to buy the little restaurant, but Stevie wasn’t about to ask questions. She was all for female bosses running this town.

“Guess I was inspired,” Twyla said, beaming at Stevie. “You’re doing such a great job with the motel. I hope your family is being more supportive than mine. My mom called it a waste of time, and all _sixteen_ of my cousins said I should get a new hobby. Running a business is _not_ a hobby!”

“Hah.” Stevie shook her head. “I don’t think my alcoholic mom or deadbeat dad care about my business prowess. I _could_ ask my estranged brothers, though…”

Twyla laughed—the reaction Stevie always went for when talking about her family. When people responded with bleeding-heart compassion, it made her feel a little sick and a lot ashamed.

“Speaking of moving on up,” Twyla leaned forward and cupped her chin in her hands. “Have you heard from our famous Roses since they left?”

Stevie nodded. “Oh! Yeah. I talk to Mr. Rose almost every day; sometimes we have Zoom meetings with Roland to discuss the motel expansions here.” Upon seeing Twyla’s raised eyebrows, she added, “To be clear, Roland doesn’t really do anything except change the video background on our screen so it looks like we’re on the beach. He really loves that.”

“Huh.” Twyla tried poorly to hide a smirk. “I’ve been talking to Alexis a lot actually—she seems so happy in New York!”

Stevie felt herself blushing as she replied, “Oh, yeah. I’ve been talking to her too,” and she nearly cringed. _What kind of schoolgirl bullshit…?_

“I’m glad she’s doing well. She just texted me the funniest picture a few minutes ago—apparently some guy plays the guitar in Times Square in only his underwear! Isn’t that _crazy_?”

Stevie couldn’t help but glance at her phone laying beside her laptop. Alexis hadn’t texted _her_ yet this morning. And why did it matter, anyway? Alexis had plenty of friends in this town to talk to. Stevie wasn’t special.

But she considered herself an honest person. A logical person.

So she didn’t bother denying to herself that hearing the little _ding!_ gave her inexplicable joy back at the motel later.

**Alexis [Received 12:40pm]**  
Hey cutie!!!!!! Guess who got an extension on paying rent this month in exchange for a pair of Jimmy Choo’s? Hint: it’s me.

_Cutie._ Stevie shook her head, biting her lip, running a hand through her hair as she attempted to greet a couple who’d come to check in with any degree of normalcy. 

A voice somewhere in her said, _You’re in too deep_. Stevie told it to shut up.

* * *

The following day, she scrolled through her messages as the scraggy bartender at The Wobbly Elm placed a third beer in front of her. An eclectic mix, to be sure:

**David [Received 7:09pm]**  
meet us at wobbly elm so i can placate patrick into thinking we have a life outside of packing

**Mr. Rose [Received 4:21pm]**  
Stevie how do I send a what is it called audio text message. Am I doing it now. I am on my way to the exec meeting with that San Francisco chain. Texting and driving is bad so I’m trying this. Is it working. Don’t text and drive Stevie.

**Mom [Received 3:58pm]**  
Just need a little money 2 keep up w the bills. It’s just so hard when I don’t feel good. U understand baby. I wuld rly appreciate it. Luv u my beautiful girl

**Armand tinder huge dong [Received 3:01pm]**  
so when’s our third date???? Promise I’ll make it worth ur while [eggplant emoji]

She checked her notifications a lot these days. Normally Stevie preferred a good book to fiddling with her phone, but ever since she’d started speaking with Alexis more frequently, she felt a sort of obligation to make sure she wasn’t accidentally ignoring Alexis. 

Because you know, that would be rude.

And normally, Stevie _loved_ being rude. It was her favorite adjective to personify. 

But it was hard to be rude to someone who made you giggly like a teenager. 

**[Sent 2:22 pm]**  
How did the meeting go with the lady who knows Beyonce?

**Alexis [Received 2:23pm]**  
SO well!!! I’m helping her rebrand her makeup line. Have you punched your contractor in the face yet?

**[Sent 2:24 pm]  
** The temptation grows stronger with every passing minute. I think he finds my pantsuit a tiny bit threatening though.

**Alexis [Received 2:27pm]**  
Well you look good in a suit so ;)

**[Sent 2:29pm]**  
Quite a compliment coming from the woman who could probably make a potato sack look good.

**Alexis [Received 2:30pm]**  
Oh, I have. 2012 was a weird time for fashion.

**Alexis [Received 2:30pm]**  
And btw, flattery will get you everywhere, missy.

**[Sent 2:31pm]**  
Everywhere, huh?

As she reread the last line, Stevie found her face growing hot. It had been a bold message to send—but it wasn’t as if Alexis hadn’t left the door open for it. Right? Right.

Except Alexis hadn’t messaged back in a while, so naturally Stevie felt anxiety creeping into the back of her consciousness. The last time Alexis hadn’t texted, she’d simply called Stevie. That was a few days ago now, and Stevie still wasn’t entirely convinced that it hadn’t been a fluke.

And even if it hadn’t, there was just no way Alexis’ flirting, her attention, her investment in Stevie’s day-to-day was anything more than a combination of her friendly nature and her need for connection. Leaning on a friend during a time of transition made sense. 

That’s what Stevie was. A friend.

David’s voice, demanding as always, broke through her thoughts: “So who did you rush off to hang out with the other night?”

Stevie blinked at him and said, “What?” as Patrick walked over from the other side of the bar with his and David’s drinks.

“You ran out of the store so fast I thought someone was having a sale on thrifty flannel.”

“Fuck you very much,” Stevie retorted, taking a gulp of her beer, “and nobody. I got a call from my mom so I went and handled that.”

She decided it was only half a lie, considering her mother had been contacting her erratically the last two days—a habit the woman fell into every few months or so when her supply ran dry.

Stevie stared down at her drink, but she could see out of the corner of her eye that David wasn’t convinced. She knew he wasn’t about to say anything, though. Even he knew when to back off.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing?” Patrick asked, clearly sensing the slight tension. “Travis? I feel like he was a Travis.”

“Trevor. And he got boring.” She left out the part about finding his husband’s sister more interesting.

“I thought his beard braids were kind of gross anyway,” David commented, sipping his very diluted vodka-cranberry. “Alexis dated a white guy from Boston with cornrows once, did I ever tell you guys that? Peak cringe. Speaking of Alexis, I just talked to her.”

Stevie turned in the bar stool to face him fully. “Oh yeah?” She was definitely keeping it cool.

“Yeah.” David furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before he went on. “She actually talked about you a _lot.”_

Mid-sip, Stevie almost choked on her beer. She cleared her throat. “Well, I can’t help that I’m so popular.”

David made a show of rolling his eyes. “She was going on about how well you’re doing and how you’re being really patient with Dad and technology—may the Lord bless you and keep you for that, by the way.” He slurped up the last of his drink, placing it on the bar. "I was like, ‘Great, but I see Stevie almost every day? Can we talk about something else?’”

Stevie kept the pint glass up to her lips in hopes it would hide her smile, because even though she couldn’t see herself, she would bet an inordinate amount of money that she looked very, very silly.

“Anywho, apparently it was a mistake for me to suggest a topic change, because then she wouldn’t shut up about how loudly her next-door neighbor cuts her nails? Fucking disgusting. Like how _loud_ does that have to be to _go through walls_ …”

David was still talking, and Patrick was laughing at something he said, but Stevie wasn’t really paying attention. She kept shifting her gaze to her phone on the bar, willing it to ring.

_She actually talked about you a lot._

Maybe it was the yellow-orange lighting of the room making her feel warm. Or the beers. Regardless, Stevie decided she very wanted to keep that feeling going, and to do so, she figured she might go talk to the person who apparently couldn’t stop talking about _her._

She found herself saying, “I’m going to get some air. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t have too much fun without us,” Patrick said, and as Stevie turned to head out, she watched him lift his own beer to David’s lips. “David, try this one. It’s really palatable, I promise.”

"You better not be tricking me into another Double IPA. I have a divorce lawyer on speed-dial.”

* * *

Stevie stepped into the evening breeze, wrapping her arms around herself as much as her leather jacket would allow.

And then she let things happen in a fluid motion—before she could trick herself into running back inside. She didn’t fully register dialing the number, or leaning against the wall outside the bar, or saying, “Hey,” when Alexis’ sing-song voice greeted her.

“Hi!” She chirped. There was some noise in the background on Alexis’ end—echoes of voices, a muffled, piercing whistling sound, a few car horns. “What’s up?”

Stevie peered up at the sky and squinted. The moon looked hazy. She felt much less confident than she had just moments ago. _Just wanted to hear your voice_. “Just…wanted to say hi.”

“Aw, that’s sweet!” Alexis replied, and her voice sounded sort-of far away. “Sorry I haven’t texted; I just got, like, really wrapped up in some work, and then Tom Hiddleston reached out to me so I had to put out _that_ fire …”

Stevie sniffed. The air was dry. She felt thirsty. “And here I was thinking you were already getting sick of our witty banter.” She hoped the words came out how she wanted them to—sarcastic, deadpanned—and not how she felt them, with insecurity bubbling behind her every thought. _Don’t be dumb. She’s just busy. She’s not ignoring you._

Sure enough, Alexis said, “No! Of course not! Stevie—”

“It’s okay if you are,” Stevie slurred. She was suddenly exhausted. “I’m no Tom Hiddleston.” She let out a dry laugh.

“Oh, babe.” Now Alexis sounded concerned. Well, she had no reason to be concerned. Stevie was totally fine. And she was definitely handling this conversation in a normal and reasonable manner. “Of course you’re not. And, um, thank God for that. He cries _a lot_. Not super into it … But what are you up to?”

“I just…wanted to say hi,” she repeated. Why did her brain stop working at the sound of Alexis’ voice? “I like talking to you,” she continued, calling back to their last phone conversation earlier in the week, and thinking, _Jesus, I’m such a fucking cornball._ “Are you busy?”

“Um, well.” Stevie could practically hear Alexis’ face falling, her expression morphing into that uncomfortable half-frown she did when she was avoiding a tricky topic. “I’m actually meeting my friend Lyss for drinks in midtown.”  


“Oh,” Stevie said. She felt far away all of a sudden, like she’d be able to reach the stars if she just stood on tip-toe. “Okay.”

“But I can like, stay on the phone! If you want—” Alexis stumbled through the words until Stevie cut her off:

“No, it’s cool. Um.” Stevie closed her eyes. She hadn’t drank much at all—she prided herself on being a heavyweight—and yet, the earth felt unstable beneath her.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Stevie?” 

“Oh, yeah. You should go.” Stevie nodded resolutely, even though Alexis couldn’t see. “I’m sorry I bothered you. Have fun!”

“Stevie, wait—”

She hung up before she could hear the end of the sentence.

Of course Alexis Rose would have plans on a Saturday night, and none of them involved talking to Stevie while she was tipsy over a few beers.

And of course Stevie would finally get the courage to call her first only to find that she’d been bugging Alexis in the middle of a night out.

Inexplicably, tears stung the back of her eyes. Was this all she was meant for? Realizing her feelings for someone once they were already thousands of miles away, sitting at the same creaky chair at the same motel and wiring the same monthly payment to her same unappreciative, addicted mother, fading into the background?

Stevie inhaled deeply. Another drink. That would be good.

She shuffled back into the bar and leaned over right between David and Patrick, who had been in mid-conversation, half-yelling to the bartender, “Two tequila shots, please.”

“Why are you screaming?” David snapped, “There’s like seven people in here.”

Stevie took both shots in quick succession. The liquor burned a trail from her nose to her throat to the pit of her stomach, settling, acidic. “What did I miss?”

“Well, we were just talking about you, actually,” Patrick replied. “Once we move, you’ll have to drive _three more miles_ to come visit us and vice-versa. Adds a whole new level of effort to hanging out.”

“Mm.” She nodded mock-seriously. “Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s worth it.”

“TBD,” David added, and Patrick chuckled.

She ordered another shot. David and Patrick exchanged a glance.

“Anyway…” David continued. “We were just wondering how you’ll spend your time when you can’t traipse over to Patrick’s to bother us.”

“Ah yes, _I’m_ the one bothering _you_ ,” was her reply. Another shot down. “And you know how I do,” she said, performing a smile, though she couldn’t feel it reach the rest of her expression. “Work, drink, sleep, repeat. Super healthy lifestyle.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Is it though?”

"Honestly, I’m kind of worried about you spending too much time alone,” David quipped. “What if you go feral?”

Her phone buzzed. Almost manic, Stevie fished it out of her back pocket.

**Mom [Received 12:16am]  
** Pls sweetie I rly need the money. Last time I swear xx

She sucked in a breath. Why was it suddenly so hot in here? She ran a hand over her face. _I need to leave._

She met eyes with David, who was looking at her with something approximating concern. He glanced down at the phone in her hand, then back up at her. “Who are you even talking to?”

“No one,” Stevie shot back. She darted her gaze back and forth between the two men. “And I’m fine being alone, you know. I’m alone a lot.”

“Stevie, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Patrick said, and he was ridiculously calm and understanding and validating as always, and Stevie wanted to punch his cute button face. “We just wanted to—”

“You guys aren’t my collective dad,” she interrupted, and she knew as soon as she said it that it was a really fucking strange sentence that would probably never be uttered by another human again, but it was too late to reel it back in. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl. I know how to be on my own. And I like it.”

“Mkay.” David waved his hand up and down as if to gesture to her entire person. “Is there something else going on here?”

Stevie said nothing. She wasn’t sure why she was taking this out on him. He was just being _David_ —showing that he cared through aggressive peppering questions and acting as if her expression of emotions was an inconvenience to him.

But how was she supposed to tell him she was catching feelings for his sister—and that those feelings were causing her to re-evaluate her entire existence up until this moment?

“I'm just tired,” she said, finally, and she hated that she let her voice crack just a little.

Patrick nodded. “Okay. Why don’t we walk you home?”

Stevie shook her head. A walk home with them would mean more questions from David, more glances from Patrick that treaded dangerously close to pity. She was feeling sorry enough for herself; she didn’t need company.

“I’m good.” She threw a few bills onto the bar and made a straight line for the door, letting it slam behind her, staring straight ahead. She knew if she looked back at her friends’ faces she’d fall apart completely.

Her bed felt cold when she fell into it. Stevie wrapped her arms around herself, hoping the action was enough to hold herself together.

Alexis had texted her while she’d been walking home: “Are u ok??”

Blurry with tears and tequila, she couldn’t bring herself to answer. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie finally confides in a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your absolutely lovely comments. They've been so encouraging! This is a long chapter and it's been my favorite to write so far. Expect 4-5 chapters after this. Enjoy!

**[Sent 8:20am]**  
Sorry I was kind of a dick last night.

**[Sent 8:41am]**  
David?

**[Sent 9:00am]**  
David, come on.

**[Sent 9:01am]**  
I’ll help you start the last of your packing tonight?

**David [Received 9:40am]**  
fine. i’m putting you on “donation pile organization” duty. aka the WORST job.

**David [Received 9:42am]**  
come by the store later and maybe i’ll let you buy me a coffee.

**[Sent 9:44am]**  
Aw, you love me.

**David [Received 9:44am]**  
get over yourself

* * *

She walked into Rose Apothecary on her lunch break, and if Patrick was judging her for wearing her sunglasses inside, he wasn’t showing it. Apparently he was in the teasing mood, though (but was he ever _not_?). 

“Good morning,” he chirped. “So nice and sunny out today, isn’t it?”

David was making the rounds with a few customers on the other end of the store, and Stevie said a little prayer of thanks that the both of them couldn’t gang up on her at once, at least for right now.

She leaned over the counter and lowered her sunglasses down her nose. “Hi. Sorry. It was just…a rough week.”

“Hey. No need to apologize. We’ve all been there.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I gotta be honest, it’s fucking infuriating how empathetic you are, like, all the time.”

“Stand-up guy, remember?” He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. His expression turned serious in an instant, though, and Stevie stifled a groan. “But, you know. If you ever need to talk…?”

She looked at him for a long moment, bringing her glasses up to cover her puffy eyes once more. This morning at the motel she’d had a lot of time to think between meetings and check-outs. Mostly, she thought about how she really hadn’t needed those tequila shots, and oh my God, was she seeing spots? But she also thought about how dealing with all this alone maybe wasn’t the best idea.

Alexis had texted again this morning. No words, just three question marks in a row.

And hell if Stevie had any idea how to respond.

Stevie was very self-sufficient. She always had been. She made that very clear, _very_ often, if last night’s semi-outburst wasn’t any indication. But the feelings she was experiencing now were outside her realm of expertise. And if the last three years had taught her anything, it was that reaching out for help isn’t always bad. Vulnerability was not something she leaned into naturally—neither her nor, apparently, David—so when they'd found each other, and _understood_ each other, it had been a surprise to them both.

And now Patrick was looking at her, eyes soft, and if there was anyone who’d understand what she was going through now, it was him.

“Stevie?” he prompted. “Are you gonna vomit? Just a heads-up that David doesn’t deal with that very well.”

“Actually, um.” She bit her lip. The asking—that was always the hardest part. “I think I do need to talk.” Surprise flashed briefly across Patrick’s face, replaced quickly with a small, patient smile.

Stevie inhaled deeply. “And I’m not…sure if David would…”

Patrick raised a hand. “I got you. Don’t worry.”

As if on cue, David shuffled over to the front of the store. “Oh, look who’s here. Are you alive? Should I care?”

“Fuck off,” Stevie grumbled, “I said I was sorry.”

David made a very poor attempt to hide a smirk while Patrick said, “Babe, we’re gonna go grab a round of coffees at the cafe. Caramel latte for you?”

“Obviously.” David nodded at Stevie. “And she’s paying.”

“I’m paying,” Stevie confirmed defeatedly. 

“You okay here for a few?” Patrick reached below the counter to grab his messenger bag.

David rolled his eyes. “Duh. That lady was about to make _so many poor bath bomb choices_ before I walked over there.” He lowered his voice. “I have to watch her to make sure she doesn’t _fuck up my recommendations_.”

“Of course.” Patrick kissed David on the cheek before heading past Stevie toward the door, calling, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Stevie said, thinking, _No._

David called after them, “Stevie, don’t let Patrick get dairy! It makes for _really_ unenjoyable bedroom time.”

"You could have said that louder, David,” Patrick sighed, holding the door open for Stevie, who didn’t bother hiding a laugh.

* * *

Stevie could only half-believe she was sitting across from Patrick in a corner booth at Twyla’s, filling him in on the last week or so. She told him about the texts, about the phone calls, about how Alexis just wouldn’t quit being nice to her, and what was up with that? And of course she mentioned how it all began—at his and David’s wedding, the softness of that moment that Stevie still had trouble recalling, as if it had been some strange and perfect dream: a compliment, a dance, a kiss on the cheek.

Ugh, gross. She was gross.

“Uh,” she concluded, twisting her fingers together in front of her on the table, “I’m just so anxious? Right now? All the time. I feel like a kid who’s preparing to get rejected when he asks his crush to prom.”

Patrick leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, that checks out.”

Stevie lifted her hands to cover her face. “Oh, my God. Patrick, I _like her._ I like her? I like her.” She peeked through her fingers to see him smiling a little.

“The first step in the ‘Oh, Shit, I’ve Fallen for a Rose’ Program is acceptance.”

Stevie gulped. “Out of how many?”

Patrick pressed his lips together. “Infinite.” 

“Ugh.” She threw her head back against the booth, closing her eyes. This admission felt better in the dark: “But I've never…liked a girl like this? Before?”

“They do tend to have that effect, don’t they, those two?” was Patrick’s voice, steady as always. She opened her eyes again, and of course, there he was, baring his soul like he so often did. It was a trait Stevie both admired and didn’t envy at all. “I mean, for me, I always knew that I was queer. Falling for David was just the universe telling me it was okay, that it wasn’t too late to explore it. That I could be happy, if I just let myself _be_. You know?”

Stevie nodded slowly, taking a tentative sip of her too-hot coffee. “I just don’t know why it’s happening now. Now that she left.”

“Well, you know what they say. Absence, heart fonder, all that.” Patrick shrugged. “Plus, _she’s_ the one reaching out to you, Stevie. I like to think I know Alexis a little by now, and it seems like she rarely takes the first move when it comes to this stuff.”

It was true, Stevie reasoned. Alexis was very much the type to flounce daintily around a subject versus addressing it directly—something that Ted had balanced out in her. Something Stevie, in her propensity for honesty and occasional frankness to a fault, counteracted as well.

“But she doesn’t…she doesn’t feel…the same.” Stevie shook her head. “Obviously. Right?”

Now Patrick was looking at her with an irritating all-knowing smile. God, David dealt with this _every day_? “You and I both know there’s only one way to find that out.”

“Fu-uck.” Stevie knew she was full-on whining, and she caught Twyla peering at her from the counter with curiosity. “What am I going to do, mail her a note that says, ‘Do you like me, check yes or no’?”

“You _could_ do that,” Patrick replied thoughtfully, “Or you could just talk to her. See, David and Alexis pretend they’re these really mysterious, elusive creatures. Like.” He gestured vaguely. “Unicorns. It’s part of their brand.”

Stevie grinned manically. “Wow. I didn’t know you and David were into horn play.”

She watched him struggle to keep his face from twisting into an exasperated expression for a few seconds (God, she _loved_ seeing him squirm) before he went on: “But in reality, they’re only human. They need communication too. Even if they’re bad at it.”

Stevie knew he was right, the insightful bastard. Then she had a thought, and the thought came out in rushed syllables all crammed together, panicked: “Please don’t tell David. Not yet. I mean, it’s probably not going to amount to anything anyway, and I don’t want him to freak out on me.”

“Hey.” He reached across the table and placed a hand on her arm. Stevie flinched a little at the contact despite herself, unable to shake how on-edge she’d been feeling since the night before.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to have these feelings. They’re yours, and they’re personal.” Stevie felt herself blushing again, staring intently at his hand holding her steady. “David doesn’t have to know anything right now. And you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. It’s something you have to work through yourself. Trust me, I understand that.”

She made eye contact with him then, and his light eyes were full of the validation she hadn’t realized she’d needed. She let out a breath she’d been holding for ages as he said, “Just know you’re not alone, okay?”

Ah, shit. Feelings again. Stevie cleared her throat and slid out of her seat, muttering something about going to get David’s coffee.

“Think about what I said,” Patrick remarked as she started to make her way over to the counter. “Maybe talk to her. When you’re ready.”

“Hmm.” She paused in her tracks. Slid into the booth next to him. Bumped his shoulder. “I guess I can see why David keeps you around.”

He bumped back. “Gee, thanks so much. Don’t forget to ask for—”

“Extra whip on the latte. What am I, an idiot?”

* * *

After a long night of helping David and Patrick organize and pack, Stevie found herself staring at the call list on her phone at her kitchen table. She squinted at Alexis’ name long enough that it started to get blurry, and she flopped her head down on the hardwood, exhaling loudly.

Patrick was right. Talking to Alexis was probably her best bet, even if it was just the _start_ of a conversation she was terrified to have. Plus, she felt the need to make up for their last chat in which Stevie had gone into full angsty-tipsy mode.

Glancing above her fridge at a bottle of whiskey, she thought for a brief moment that liquid courage might help. But no. She needed to have a conversation with Alexis sober. She owed her that much.

Stevie tried to keep her hands from shaking as best she could as she tapped on Alexis’ name and then pressed, ’video call.’ She caught a glimpse of herself as the ringtone trilled, grateful she didn’t appear as nervous as she felt. _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckf—_

“Oh, my God, hi!” 

And there was Alexis on Stevie’s phone screen. Looking casual in a turquoise tee and light makeup, sitting propped up against what appeared to be the fluffy cream-colored pillows of her bed. The soft glow of the room’s lighting danced on her face, illuminating the azure of her eyes. She looked beautiful. _Goddammit._

“I’m _so_ glad you called. Are you okay?” Stevie couldn’t help but notice she sounded just a tad panicked.

So she nodded, trying her best for a reassuring smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Okay. _Phew._ I was worried for a second there. Because like, you didn’t answer my texts and I thought you were mad at me.” The furrow in Alexis’ brow disappeared as quickly as it had arrived as she padded the concern with humor: “And I mean, who else am I going to send screenshots of David’s messages to? Who _else_ would use those as blackmail?”

Stevie grinned. “It’s true. I’m invaluable. So, um.” She cleared her throat. Looked down at the table. _Nope, Budd. Look up. Look the fuck up._

She met the other woman’s eyes again. “I just wanted to apologize in-person. Well, as in-person as we can get.”

“For what?” Alexis tilted her head to the side, and it was very cute, and _focus, Stevie._

Stevie bit the inside of her lip, and she could see from the tiny video feed of her own face in the corner of the screen that she was turning a little pink. “Uh, for acting like a character out of a telenovela on the phone last night?”

“Not even! I would know.” Alexis pressed her free hand to her chest. “I had a nanny once who’d been on a telenovela when she was 22, and she showed me clips. You weren’t even _close_ to that level of melodrama. Like, imagine my mom’s character on _Sunrise Bay_ times one thousand.”

“Oh.” Stevie nodded. “I’m relieved? I think?”

Appearing to return from her small tangent to the present moment, Alexis gave Stevie an apologetic look. “I really _did_ want to talk to you last night,” she said, the usual lilting tone to her voice absent, “I can hang out with Lyss any day.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Stevie said, feeling shy all over again. “But you should be able to hang out with your friends on a Saturday night like a normal person. How was it, by the way?”

“Um, it was okay?” Alexis replied thoughtfully, gazing at something beyond the phone camera as if taking herself back to the night before. “There was a lot of cocaine. I didn’t partake. Makes my skin totally dry.” She shrugged, and Stevie decided that was a topic for another time. “But what’s going on with you?”

Stevie hesitated. Alexis had been nothing but open since their earliest conversations about how she was feeling in New York. Stevie figured she at least owed her the same honesty about how she was doing now. And vulnerability was a thing she was trying to work on, after all.

She thought that she could use that drink right about now.

“I guess—I was just dealing with—my mom texted me.” The words came out a few syllables at a time, stilted, no matter how much she tried to steady her voice. “You know, she, um. We don’t really talk? Unless she needs something. And when she needs something it’s like, suddenly I’m her greatest achievement. Her pride and joy.”

She would normally follow this up with some kind of dark joke, but tonight, she didn’t really have the energy. Stevie braced herself for the pity-stare, for the “poor you”’s and “I’m sorry’s” to start.

But Alexis didn't look at her like she’d just admitted something shameful. No, rather, it was the most solemn Stevie thought she’d ever seen Alexis, and there was something else that flared in her eyes, too—frustration? Determination? And she said, firmly, “You deserve _way_ better than that.”

At present, Stevie didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with _that_ response, so she went on: “And Mr. Rose—your dad, he trusts me with all of this franchising stuff. And so far, honestly, I’m kind of killing it. But it’s stressful. And socially draining.”

“Well, yeah,” Alexis agreed emphatically, “I _like_ people, and doing what you do everyday sounds exhausting to me.”

“And once I start feeling too many things at once—anger, sadness, um…even happiness or affection or whatever…” She let the last noun slip out by accident, hoping Alexis wouldn’t pick up on it. “I get overwhelmed. It’s like my entire brain calls a stop.”

And Alexis was just looking at her, _listening_ , and Stevie found herself verbalizing what had been tearing at her since The Wobbly Elm.

“And then I spiral a little. And I think, what if this is just all there is? I go to work and I come home and I sleep and it starts all over.” She ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated despite herself. “I just feel like there’s a piece of me that’s sort of missing. And I don’t know where to find it.”

“Huh.” Alexis’ brow was knit together thoughtfully and adorably. “But what if the piece is already there? Like, in you? Not in a weird way. Like, um.” She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Like you’re a puzzle, and there’s a piece sort of floating around that you just haven’t figured out what to do with yet? But it’s there.” She nodded resolutely, satisfied with the simile. “You just have to find the right spot for it.”

Stevie shook her head incredulously. “You’re just … such a positive person. You find the light in, like, everything. I want to be more like that.”

Alexis rolled her eyes, playing with a particularly bouncy blonde curl with her free hand. “Well, it’s not _so_ easy.”

Stevie nodded, and blurted, because _why am I like this_ , “I’m sure you miss Ted.”

“I do,” Alexis replied, and before Stevie could let her anxiety read into that, she continued, “But he’s not the only one. He was, like, a constant presence in my life, but now that we’re not together, I’m realizing just how many other people were constants in my life too.” She bit her lip, nodding her head from side to side. “It’s scary, being here without…any of that. If I think about it too hard.”

Stevie swallowed thickly. Constants. Was _she_ a constant?

Either way, the moment was putting a face to the openness Alexis had been displaying since their initial text conversations—eyes big, as if reaching out to Stevie through the screen for a connection.

“Well,” she said, unable to take her gaze off Alexis’ expression. “I don’t want you to be scared.” _Nice. Pinnacle of eloquence._

But Alexis just smiled softly. “I’m less scared right now.”

Stevie smiled back, feeling her face flush. And then she squinted, noticing a familiar cover on a small makeshift bookshelf on Alexis’ bedside table in the background. “Is that…Is that _The Bell Jar_? Behind you?”

“Oh! Yeah. You were talking about it the other day, so I picked up a copy.”

Stevie didn’t bother hiding her shock. “I didn’t know you were a Sylvia Plath fan.”

Alexis lifted a hand to the side of her face. “‘Kay, to be honest, I wasn’t, and I thought this book was about an actual jar before I started reading?” Stevie bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. “But it’s…really beautiful. I can see why it’s your favorite.”

It was supposed to come out as a question, but Stevie breathed out the words as more of a surprised statement. “You remembered that.”

“Yeah! Of course! And I really like it. Although…” Alexis let out a too-characteristic sigh. “The main character, Esther? She’s…so sad. I just want to sort of reach through the pages and help her not be sad. You know?”

She was looking at Stevie in a way that perhaps suggested she was talking about more than just the book.

“Scared and sad,” Stevie declared, grinning wryly. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

“Aren’t we,” Alexis replied, and there was a comfortable beat of silence between them before she asked, “So? Are you feeling any better?”

Stevie thought of her mother, prostrate on the couch after yet another dance with addiction. She thought of her great aunt, who practically lived and died at a motel that served as a dusty time capsule for her existence.

Before she’d passed it off to Stevie. And Stevie, with help from Mr. Rose and even Alexis, made it into something new. With potential. Something to be proud of.

And then she thought, _I’m not them._ As she sat there, talking to someone who actually took the time to understand her, to _see_ her, she knew she was already so much better off.

“A lot better. Thanks.”

“Yay! Good.” Alexis grinned madly. “Now that I’ve _trapped_ you, can you help me pick my outfit for my pitch meeting tomorrow? I promise this will be really fun for you because, unlike my sad, sad brother, I wear more than black and white.”

“I’d be honored. One second though.” Stevie minimized the video call and opened up her messaging app. She had one more text to send for the night.

_You deserve_ way _better than that._

**[Sent 1:07am]**  
Sorry, Mom. I can’t help you this time. Take care. x


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Rose sends Stevie on a special mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Your comments have been so, so wonderful. I'm really glad you're enjoying the story.
> 
> I am a recent New York transplant--been here a couple months and, well, given the quarantine I haven't been able to do a lot of exploring. But I know my way around midtown (mostly) so that's where all the highly specific references come from. :P I hope you like this chapter!

“So, what do you think, Stevie?”

Mr. Rose was looking at her expectantly, and Stevie knew she had to answer. Words had to come out of her mouth starting … _now._

“Uh,” she said, “Sure. Sounds good.”

Roland was beside her at the front desk— _too fucking close_ , as was the necessity during these video conferences for Johnny to see both of them. So that wasn’t helping.

“Well, Johnny,” Roland drawled, and she could smell his coffee breath, “I can assure you the motel will be in _excellent_ hands. My hands. For three whole days. Just me. By myself—”

Onscreen, Mr. Rose lifted a hand to cut Roland off. “Oh, I know, Roland. I have the utmost confidence in your … capabilities. I’ll be checking in often.”

“Checking in?” Roland leaned forward as if to scrutinize the camera. “Why would you be checking in a lot? Nothing to check on. I totally got it.”

“You sure do. Which is why I’ll be checking in. To see. That you’re handling it. Very well.”

Normally an exchange in which Mr. Rose fought with every inch of his being to be diplomatic with Roland would entertain the hell out of Stevie. But she was still preoccupied with Mr. Rose’s proposition.

Stevie would be meeting with the heads of two motel chains—one based in Jersey City, one in Yonkers—looking to sell. Mr. Rose had already set up meetings for Thursday and Friday, and all she had to do was show up.

In New York City.

She would arrive tomorrow evening.

“Before you ask,” Mr. Rose had said, smiling, “I was just talking to Alexis this morning and she offered to have you stay with her before I even suggested it! Might have to, uh, ‘crash on her couch,’ as the kids say. But I figured it’d be nice for both of you to see a familiar face, and, you know, Stevie, we have to cut costs where we can …”

He’d said a few more things but Stevie had long stopped paying attention after the mention of Alexis. Staying _with_ Alexis. For three nights. 

Which would be totally fine, and not weird at all, especially given the almost too-intimate conversations they’d been having and the amount of time they spent texting each other and the way Stevie couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Yeah. This would be great.

“You’ll do a fine job, Stevie,” Mr. Rose said, evidently sensing her anxiety. “I have complete faith in you, which is why I’m sending you. I could’ve done this over the phone, but in my experience, that personal touch in the form of a face-to-face meeting can sometimes make all the difference.”

“Face-to-face. Sure,” Stevie repeated.

But of course, that particular personal touch wasn’t the one she was worried about.

* * *

Instead of freaking out, she decided to focus on packing.

David sat on the edge of her bed across from her with his arms folded over his chest, eyebrows raised sky-high in horror. “You’re _leaving_ me? In my _extremely stressful_ time of need?”

Stevie continued to fold some flannels and place them in her suitcase. “Don’t have a hernia; I’ll be back in time to help you move. It’s just a few days. Purple or black dress shirt?” She held up both, and that was when she noticed her hands were kind of shaking. _Shit._

“It’s _magenta_ , Stevie. I taught you better than that.” He pointed to the shirt, and she tossed it in the to-be-folded pile. “You look like you’re gonna be sick. Which, don’t.” He grimaced. “You’ve been to New York already, this isn’t new for you.”

Stevie forced a shrug. “Yeah, well, I’m going by myself this time, so.”

“So? You’re gonna thrive. You look like you came out of the womb an East Village hipster. I mean, an East Village hipster on a _budget_ , but still.”

Stevie blinked at him. “I have no idea what that means.”

“You will,” David retorted, “Alexis will make a New Yorker of you yet.” His eyes widened. “You might not even want to come back!”

“David.” She walked over to the other side of the bed, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’m coming back. It’s okay.”

David shrugged her hands off him. “Whatever, I’m not concerned.”

Stevie grinned, unable to mask her affection for this so-much of a person. “I’ll miss you, too.”

Part of her wanted to tell him. To sit down next to him and tell him about Alexis, about how conflicted she was feeling, about all of it.

But for all she knew, nothing would come of this trip at all. She’d see Alexis. Maybe they’d grab drinks. She’d sleep on the couch. They’d both be working. And that would be that. No need to put any ideas in David’s head.

Instead, she texted Patrick later that night at the start of what would be a sleepless several hours.

**[Sent 9:57pm]**  
What if she looks really cute when I arrive?  
****

**Patrick [Received 10:01pm]**  
It’s Alexis. She’s gonna look cute.

**[Sent 10:02pm]  
** I think I’m having a heart attack. They can’t let me on a plane if I’ve just had a heart attack, right?

**Patrick [Received 10:03pm]  
** Stevie. It’s gonna be OK.

**[Sent 10:05pm]  
** And what if it’s not?

**Patrick [Received 10:06pm]**  
Then you’ll come back and we’ll have a whole lot of beer about it. We can even force David to watch our favorite seminal film.

**[Sent 10:06pm]  
** ALIEN VS. PREDATOR?????

**Patrick [Received 10:07pm]**  
We can take bets on when he’ll start crying.

**[Sent 10:08pm]**  
I appreciate you.

**Patrick [Received 10:08pm]**  
<3 Good luck.

* * *

The next day went by in a flurry of setting up Roland to take care of the Rosebud, last-minute packing, and last-minute panicking. Johnny had set up a driver for her to the airport, and she spent the entire ride trying not to throw up on the very nice leather seats.

Check-in, security, border protection, the same page of a book she kept trying to start as she sat at the gate … None of it fully registered. Especially not when her phone would buzz with notifications like this:

**Alexis [Received 4:19pm]**  
Your flight gets in at 8:30 right?? I’ll be there to pick u up!!! So excited!!

Truthfully, Stevie was excited too. Her anxiety was met equally with a heart-pumping thrill at the knowledge she’d be seeing Alexis, in person, for the first time in a month. Had it really only been that short a time since they’d been chatting? To Stevie, it felt like an intrinsic part of her day-to-day—but Alexis had left Schitt’s Creek just a few weeks ago. And so much had changed since then, it seemed.

_But it hasn’t,_ that voice in her head chided. _You’re just friends, and that’s that._

It was a thought that reverberated against her consciousness for the entire flight, and when she she sat waiting for the seatbelt light to turn off, and when she wandered aimlessly in LaGuardia to find her luggage.

By the time she approached the Arrivals gate, suitcase rolling behind her, she’d been in the airport almost an hour. There was no way Alexis had waited for her—and Stevie didn’t blame her. Navigating an airport always took much longer than expected, and she figured Alexis was halfway home by now. Which was just as well—she’d call her, ask for her address, and take a cab.

But as soon as she turned the corner, she met piercing aqua eyes that made up the eager expression of one Alexis Rose. She seemed to be bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in anticipation, and as soon as she recognized Stevie, her expression changed to one of unadulterated joy.

Stevie felt hot all over. She pursed her lips to keep the ridiculous smile from spreading across her face as she took in the young woman before her donning a dark green and navy romper, long hair cascading down the sides of her face. 

_Fuck. She looks good._

She shuffled over to Alexis, who was waving her hands to and fro. “Hi!” She squealed, barely giving Stevie a chance to park her suitcase before launching herself at her.

Alexis was warm, wrapped around Stevie like some sort of woodland creature to a tree, and Stevie found herself hugging back just as tight. Alexis was so goddamn _tall_ that Stevie’s chin rested perfectly on her shoulder in the embrace, which made Stevie feel a little small but also a little protected.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Stevie muttered, noting the strawberry scent of Alexis’ hair.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Alexis pulled away, and in all honesty, the absence of the sensation of her body on Stevie’s felt so abrupt that she had to stop herself from pouting.

“So we can take a bus to the 6 back to my place, it’s about 45 minutes, and it wouldn’t be too crowded at this hour, and it’s only a little gross? Not as gross as, like, the F.” Alexis was surely speaking words, but Stevie couldn’t guarantee they were English.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh! The MTA. The subway?” Stevie just stared at Alexis, which she hoped was enough to indicate her continued confusion. “Or we could take a cab. Actually, let’s just take a cab. It’s _way_ shorter and you won’t have to worry about someone peeing on you.”

And then she was off, beginning her way through the labyrinthine airport. Stevie lifted her duffel bag over her shoulder and grabbed her suitcase once more, half-jogging after her. 

Alexis was right; it was a quick trip—though Stevie found herself mesmerized by the sights outside the car window as they left Queens, which made it feel even shorter. Manhattan glowed so brightly in neons, yellows, and whites that it almost didn’t feel like nighttime.

Beside her in the back seat of the yellow cab, Alexis was chatting away, as always, a nice little consistency that made Stevie feel at home despite the unfamiliarity of her surroundings.

Upon arrival at the apartment building, they walked up four flights of stairs (“Yeah, um, moving in was like, not fun?”) before approaching a modest wooden door with “4F” embossed on it. 

“Here it is! _Welcommmme_!” Alexis sang, unlocking the door. Inside, Stevie was met with a small entryway that led toward a tiny kitchen. To the right was the living room, and past that were two doorways which she assumed led to the bathroom and Alexis’ room. 

The place was small, but nicely furnished. The decor was so very Alexis—bohemian blues, golds, silvers, the opposite of the harsh blacks and whites to which her brother was drawn.

There was a small TV set up on a wooden stand and a gray couch sitting across from it. Stevie took it upon herself to bring her suitcase and bag to the front of the couch, taking off her jacket and draping it over what would be her bed for the next few days.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alexis putter around in a halfhearted attempt to play hostess. In her shockingly high heels, she hopped to and from the kitchen to get Stevie a glass of water, which she gladly accepted. Travel thirst plus nerves were an uncomfortable combination.

“So I was thinking we’d go out for hibachi,” Alexis said, twirling a thick lock of hair around her finger. “Or maybe bop around some of the clubs on the Lower East Side. Or do, like, a little pub crawl.”

Stevie nodded slowly as she sipped her water, thinking of all these options and just how full of people they would be. She was in New York, though, and she had to suck it up. She would _take advantage_ of this extremely bright and loud place, goddammit, even if it killed her. Especially because it was time with Alexis, of which she had precious little.

“But.” Alexis evidently wasn’t finished talking. “I figured you’d be tired. So _instead_ …” She produced a stack of brochures from behind her back. “Here are some takeout menus from some of my favorite places around here. Take your pick and I’ll order!”

Stevie thought she might cry, but checked herself, as this seemed like an overreaction despite her deep relief at the prospect of doing absolutely nothing tonight. “This…” She took the menus, beginning to flip through them. “…is amazing.”

“I know, right? Anyway, there are _tons_ of choices.” She paused, thoughtful, before leaning overStevie’s shoulder and pointing. “Except, um, maybe don’t pick the Korean place because I just had that last week, and also, I’m off fried food for this week.”

“Off fried food, huh?” Stevie smirked as she shuffled through the menus, sensing an ulterior motive. “So that leaves out—let’s see … Chinese, pizza, Thai … I guess there’s sushi.”

Alexis’ eyes lit up. “We _definitely_ _could_ do that. And if we did, I would _definitely_ get a cucumber salmon roll. But like, it’s _whatever_ you want.”

Stevie bit down on her grin. Alexis could barely contain her bouncing, and it was adorable. After several seconds she hoped were excruciating, Stevie gave in: “Hmm. I have an idea. What if we did sushi?”

Alexis lifted her wrists to her chest, her hands slack in that ridiculous pose Stevie could never wrap her head around and yet for some reason adored watching now, and her eyes widened. “Oh my God, you’re a _mind_ -reader.”

“Uh-huh.” 

* * *

Stevie had to admit, it was damn good sushi. She’d always assumed people raving about New York food were just exaggerating, because everything surely seemed more delicious, more glamorous, more _everything_ in the Big Apple.

But as she sat next to Alexis on the couch, both their feet kicked up on the coffee table, and drowned another piece of her spider maki in soy sauce, she decided she might have to agree with those people.

“Okay, so this is a documentary about a murderer. Do we want that?” Alexis was flipping through Netflix, remote control held loosely in her hand. “Oh, oh! Or we could watch _Drag Race_. David said you guys watch that together.”

Stevie snorted, leaning over to grab her beer where it sat neatly on a coaster, taking a swig. “That’s a bold thing for him to say. I _sit next to him_ while he watches. The workroom drama gives me anxiety. I do like the outfits, though.”

And that was how they ended up watching a very old season of _America’s Next Top Model._ It _just_ dated itself enough that Alexis would have to pause an episode for them to yell at the screen in anger or attempt to string sentences together between bouts of laughter.

She met Alexis’ eyes at one point and remembered just how close the two of them were sitting. Alexis was smiling at her—genuinely, widely, almost goofily: the kind of smile Stevie knew by now that she reserved for her family, and for Twyla, and at one point, for Ted.

And now, evidently, for Stevie.

As for her first night in New York, Stevie thought things could be a hell of a lot worse.

A few episodes in, dinner and alcohol long since consumed in earnest, Stevie shook her head at the television and quipped, “Ouch. I think Jay just took feminism back about 40 years.”

When she didn’t receive a reply, she noticed the weight on her right side. Stevie felt her heart leap up into her throat, settling there as she looked down at Alexis, fast asleep, head resting on her shoulder.

_Oh, wow._

Stevie bit her lip, letting her head loll back against the couch cushion. She squinted up at the engraved patterns on the ceiling light. Was this a dream? Was she going to wake up any second now, alone in her apartment in Schitt’s Creek?

This couldn’t be reality.

But in case it was …

Gingerly, she tilted her head just so, feeling the softness of Alexis’ hair against her cheek. The strawberry scent filled the air again, and Stevie breathed it in, and let her eyes fall shut.

* * *

She awoke hours later with the definitive absence of that warm sensation beside her—but God, she was comfortable. What time was it?

Only when she sat up to look for her phone did Stevie notice she was wrapped up in several blankets, two fluffy pillows propped up behind her head. Hence the comfort.

Conveniently, her phone was plugged into a charger on the side table nearest to her. Rubbing her eyes, she checked the time—4:26am. 

Stevie looked around. Besides for the light of her phone, the apartment was pitch-black. She could just make out the outline of the shut door leading to Alexis’ room.

And then she thought, _Why don’t I remember doing any of this?_

Setting up the bed, charging her phone—none of it sprung to mind, and yet Stevie was very sure she’d only had two beers. Man, her tolerance was starting to resemble that of a high-school chess team player.

And then she realized.

She didn’t remember doing any of it because she _hadn’t done it._ She’d fallen asleep with Alexis on the couch, and _Alexis_ had set up her bedding _. Alexis_ had found a charger and plugged in Stevie’s phone. And _Alexis_ had somehow maneuvered Stevie’s body to lie horizontally on the couch without waking her, tucking her in like she was something…someone…

Special?

Stevie dropped her phone to her lap and ran her hands down her face.

There was the voice: _You’re in too deep._

This time she didn’t bother denying its irritating correctness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexis takes Stevie around Manhattan for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, as usual, I'm positively chuffed re: the feedback you've all been leaving on this story. I'm having an absolute blast writing it; getting into Stevie's head I'm realizing I'm a lot more similar to her than I even thought possible. 
> 
> Some fun facts in case you aren't familiar with New York City: Ellen's Stardust Diner is a real place; I've never braved the tourist crowds to go but hopefully when we can all start going places again I'll pay it a visit. Also, the "west" and "east" sides of the streets in the grid system are determined based on where they fall on either side of 5th Avenue! Central Park is west of that. :)
> 
> (We get it, Jay, you live in NY now.)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

“Where are we going for food again?” Stevie asked when they exited the subway station the next morning.

Alexis, upon acquiring the knowledge that Stevie’s first meeting wasn’t until the following morning, had announced she _had_ to take Stevie around the city on Stevie’s only free day. To which Stevie, of course, had replied, “Don’t you have work to do? That’s probably important.”

“Mm, but like, _is it, though_?”

Stevie had quirked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you trying to start a business?”

“Ugh, whatever. One day isn’t gonna kill me.”

So that was how later that morning, Stevie had ended up taking something called a Q Train, following Alexis’ dizzying lead. The mild fall day, she found, had brought out even more people and even more car horns than she’d experienced last night.

Now Alexis was looking at her and beaming. “It’s called Ellen’s Stardust Diner,” she said as they turned a corner, “And it’s going to make you really uncomfortable and I’m _so_ excited.”

Stevie shook her head, half-jogging to catch up with Alexis’ long strides. “Sometimes you remind me way too much of your brother.”

“Ew!” Alexis smacked Stevie’s arm. “Don’t insult me like that.”

A few minutes later they approached a relatively unassuming (at least, for midtown) corner building on which Stevie could make out the word STARDUST in quirky red lettering.

There was a small line leading out the door to the diner, and Alexis chirped, “Oh, goodie! I was hoping it wouldn’t be too insanely crowded for a weekday,” shuffling in her impractical cranberry pumps toward the queue. “The line can sometimes go, like, _several_ blocks.”

“Jesus,” Stevie replied, “Why?”

Alexis bounced up and down a little once they reached their spot in the back. “You’ll see.”

They waited behind a cluster of people outside. Stevie watched Alexis. She was looking around eagerly, peering toward the front of the line, holding her obnoxiously floppy hat down on her head as the wind blew. The breeze caught her meticulously styled hair, sending in it in dirty blonde rivers through the air.

She was also shifting her weight from side to side with her arms wrapped around herself, as the dress she was wearing—a rose-printed, lacy thing—didn’t look like it did much against the slight autumn morning chill.

Stevie bit her lip. Stepped closer. Nudged her arm. “Cold?” she asked.

“Mm, a little?” 

So Stevie remained there, pressed up just enough against Alexis’ arm to share a bit of body heat. She couldn’t make herself look at Alexis, but she could definitely feel her looking at her, and was _this_ finally the time she would throw up? 

Alexis didn’t move away.

After about fifteen minutes they were let inside, and Stevie gazed in awe at the 1950s-style diner booths wedged together, the red and blue color scheme, the signs all over the walls blaring neon. 

“I know it’s kind of a lot,” Alexis said over the chatter of the many restaurant patrons and clanging utensils. “But I think you’ll really like it!”

They were seated fairly quickly, orders placed soon after—Stevie could tell the place was well-run given the amount of people who must filter in and out each day. Alexis got coffee, water, and a fruit cup, because of course she did. And Stevie, partly because she was actually starving and partly because she wanted to tease Alexis with the sheer amount of gluttony she was about to exercise, ordered a full country breakfast and a chocolate milkshake. 

“Okay.” Alexis folded her hands and rested her chin on her steepled fingers. “So how crazy is my dad making you?”

“I—” Stevie began, but she was cut off by the commotion in front of her: all eyes in the restaurant were now on a waiter who had just climbed onto a tiny platform _in between two booths._ “Oh, my God. What is happening?”

Alexis turned in her seat to face the waiter. “Oh, yay!”

The guy was holding a handheld mic as band music started to play, and Stevie’s jaw dropped as he started a rendition of “Don’t Rain on My Parade.” 

Diners cheered in their seats as the guy belted the lyrics amongst the flurry of food and shakes, and Stevie met eyes with Alexis, who was beaming. “A bunch of aspiring Broadway actors work here!” she shouted over the music.

And Stevie had to admit, as she watched the kid up there pay homage to Streisand, it was pretty great. She went back and forth between watching the performance and watching _Alexis_ watch the performance, just to see her face consumed with utter delight. As always, her happiness was contagious.

Just as their waitress arrived with their food, the young man took a bow and hopped off to the kitchen. Stevie tried not to indicate just how excited she was about her fried eggs, but decided it was a useless endeavor because she was picking up her fork and digging in before the plate had fully landed in front of her.

“Fuck,” she said after swallowing a home fry, “That is _good._ ”

Alexis was looking at her, eyes twinkling, and Stevie thought, what the fuck. She was watching Stevie eat _eggs_ and still looking at her like she was a goddamn _prize_.

She started to make a comment on the lack of cantaloupe in Alexis’ fruit cup to diffuse the silence between them when a familiar tune began to play.

Alexis literally squealed, clapping her hands together. “ _Stevie_! It’s your song!”

_Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky  
Maybe this time he’ll stay_

Stevie laughed and shook her head before picking up her toast, hoping if she focused on her food long enough she could get rid of the giddy feeling in her chest. “You’d think they would play something more upbeat for the middle of the day on a Wednesday.”

Stevie thought the young woman singing atop the counter was much better than Stevie had been in her own performance, but nonetheless, the song took her back to that night, adrenaline humming under her skin.

“You sounded really great when you sang this,” Alexis said, tone soft despite the loudness of the room, “And you looked really happy.”

Stevie looked up from her breakfast and wished she hadn’t, because there were those open, welcoming eyes again, a small smile accompanying them. _Fuck me_. “Oh. Uh. I didn’t think you were watching. Thanks.”

And then Alexis said, “Of course I was watching,” which almost killed Stevie, because Alexis had been _in the show_ and surely had better things to do backstage than _watch her_ , and yet …

Alexis could probably see how red Stevie _felt_ her face was, and she asked, innocently: “So are you like, committed to drinking that entire milkshake by yourself?”

Thank God. A reprieve.

“Oh, this?” Stevie raised her eyebrows. “I’m actually _not_ going to drink it. I’m just going to stare at it while it melts. That’s my favorite thing to do with milkshakes.” She gave Alexis a few seconds to stare at her, wide-eyed, before giving up the act. “I’m _kidding._ Here. Have some.”

Alexis gleefully reached over to snatch the glass, taking a generous slurp from the red-and-white striped straw. Stevie smiled really big and knew she looked stupid, and she didn’t care.

It wasn’t something she talked about, but playing Sally Bowles had been one of the greatest experiences of her life. She remembered standing on the brightly lit stage, singing her heart out, and though she couldn’t see the audience, she could _feel_ her friends out there watching with pride. How very lucky she’d felt in that moment.

Unbridled joy. Despite the anxiety and the nerves and the many breakdowns, that was her biggest takeaway from the show.

And Alexis, somehow, had known that. Why else would she have brought Stevie here?

There was that familiar fluttering feeling, the one she could only remember getting since Alexis started texting her. It was such a short time ago when this all began, but it felt like home.

* * *

After breakfast, Stevie listened to the rhythmic crunch of leaves as she and Alexis cut across some grass, walking side by side. “Which part of Central Park is this?” she asked.

Alexis flicked some hair out of her face and tossed her head from side to side, observing her surroundings. “Oh, we’re in Central Park West?” She said it more like a question.

Stevie raised an eyebrow. “West of what?”

“Um, I think that’s _obvious_ , Stevie,” and she didn’t elaborate, and Stevie was just about to delve into whether or not Alexis actually knew anything about where she was living when Alexis said: “I’m, like, _really_ happy to see you.”

It sort of sucked, the fact that Alexis could manage to thwart Stevie’s attempts to make fun of her with a single sentence. Stevie prided herself on her ability to call the Roses out on their shit, except now, she was too busy trying to figure out her _own_ shit. How did this family always manage to surprise her?

She said, “Me too,” before her jittering mind could stop her from a reply. A beat of silence went by before she elaborated, “To see you, I mean. Not to see myself. Um.” _Good. Real good._

Alexis giggled, and Stevie looked up and _fuck_ she was looking at her, and Jesus, Alexis was tall, and oh my God, she was gorgeous, and was this real? How was any of this real?

Stevie looked down at her sneakers again, blushing hard. It was then she felt Alexis’ fingers slip through hers.

_Oh fuck. Oh God. Oh fuckfuckfuckfuckme._

Stevie squeezed her hand—lightly, just once.

Alexis held on as she asked, “Do you wanna see the lake?”

They strolled hand in hand the rest of the way.

* * *

Alexis unlocked the front door to her apartment building and said, “You’re, like, really quiet.”

Stevie, walking beside her, shrugged. “Just, you know. Taking in the Big Apple,” she replied, trying to sound casual, when in reality she was reeling from all the hand-holding in the park and how they’d just sort of stolen glances at each other on the train the entire way back like two teenagers in a Disney Channel Original movie.

As they climbed the stairs, Alexis chattered on: “I mean, you’re normally pretty quiet, like, to a point where I thought you hated my entire family for a solid six months?”

Stevie hid a grin. “That tracks.”

“But you’re _especially_ quiet right now.” They entered the apartment and as Stevie shut the door behind her, she watched Alexis drop her keys on a side table before whirling around in one fluid motion. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s up?”

Shit.

Stevie couldn’t let it happen; she couldn’t _let_ this just be something she was allowed to have, this feeling, this moment, this entire _day_ so far. It just couldn’t be her life.

So she stepped toward the couch, as if the piece of furniture would hide her somehow, picking at her fingernails. “I just really.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate you letting me stay here, and, um, just being … nice to me?”

Alexis just looked at her. It was so uncomfortable that Stevie found herself doing something Alexis herself would do—speaking to fill the silence. “Sorry—did I say something wrong?”

Alexis suddenly stomped over to the couch so she was directly across from Stevie again. So much for disappearing. “Why do you say stuff like that?”

“I…sorry.”

“Ugh, no! Stop.” Alexis brought her hands to her temples, massaging them a bit. And then she started to _pace._ Alexis Rose was _pacing,_ arms flailing wildly, looking a lot like David did when Stevie wore clashing patterns. “You just like, walk around assuming you’re this inconvenience. And you’re not.” She stopped, head tilted to the side expectantly.

Stevie wanted to melt into the floor. _This was a stupid idea_ , said the voice, constant behind her thoughts, _You’re embarrassing yourself. Go to your meetings and go home_. Maybe if she Googled it now, she could book a motel room last-minute.

But then Alexis asked again, and Stevie noticed a slight tremble in her voice: “ _Why_ don’t you expect people to be nice to you?”

Alexis was nothing if not determined, and Stevie knew then, watching the other woman’s sharp blue eyes that didn’t waver from Stevie’s face, that she wasn’t going to get out of this.

“Fine.” Stevie tried very hard to keep her own voice from shaking to no avail. “Do you actually want to know?”

“Yes! Of cour—”

“You asked me how I was.” Stevie cut her off. She stared down at her shoes. She wrung her hands. One of her fingers was bleeding a little bit under the nail. And just like the other night on the video call, now that she’d given Alexis the slightest glimpse into what she was feeling, she knew there was no turning back.

“And you kept asking. People don’t…always do that for me.” She looked up and ran a hand through her hair compulsively. “Like, my mom was usually one cigarette away from a psychotic episode at any given moment so there wasn’t any of that from her; the rest of my family are deadbeats or druggies or both. I had literally _no friends by choice_ until I met David, and God knows he isn’t the poster-child for best friendship.”

Alexis nodded once in acknowledgement. “Not so much.”

“I just….” Now it was Stevie's turn to throw her hands up before letting her arms flop back to her sides, feeling suddenly very tired. “I never felt like I deserved it. You know. The attention? Of it? I guess.”

“Stevie.” Alexis took a few steps toward her, placing her hands on either of her arms, as if to steady her. “Being cared about isn’t something you work up to deserving. It’s like, basic human decency. Last time I checked, anyway.” Stevie was listening, but she was also hyper-focused on the warmth of Alexis’ hands creeping through her flannel shirt. “Like, obviously I care about how you’re doing. You’re a good _friend_ to me. And to David. And you take an interest in my life, and you respond to my texts.”

Stevie wasn’t sure if she could stand looking into Alexis’ eyes another minute, so she lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Twyla responds to your texts.”

“Twyla is a sweet baby angel,” Alexis replied, “But she’s not you.”

“Yeah?” Stevie half-laughed, pulling away from the touch and crossing her arms. “Me, in my utility shirts with my bad posture?”

“Ugh, you know I don’t mean it when I say those things,” Alexis half-whined, and it would be adorable if Stevie wasn’t so goddamn _flustered_ right now. “It’s you, it’s your style, and it would be weird if it wasn’t. Honestly, I admire you. You just _do_ things I didn’t let myself do for most of my adult life until I was forced to move to that town. You’re _totally_ yourself.” Alexis sighed, exasperated. “It’s what I love about you.”

Oh. Stevie clenched her fists and took a deep breath and asked a question she already knew the answer to: “What was that last thing you said?”

“Um.” Alexis sniffed, cleared her throat, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s what I love about you?”

Well. That just wasn’t fair.

Stevie thought back to what Patrick had said: that communicating what she was feeling would be the best bet, that the Roses often needed a little _push_ in the right direction.

And Stevie decided in that moment, with Alexis looking at her with big eyes and slightly parted lips and flushed cheeks, that she couldn’t keep the silence any longer. So she pushed.

She closed the remaining space between them, pressing her lips against Alexis’, bringing her hands up to cup her face. Alexis let out a quiet “mmph,” into Stevie’s mouth—but her surprise was replaced with something else entirely as Stevie felt Alexis’ hands on her hips, pulling her impossibly closer.

Stevie moved her hands up to comb her fingers through Alexis’ soft hair, afraid to break the kiss, afraid to move too much and ruin the moment. Alexis’ hat fell to the floor, but Alexis didn’t seem to notice and was rather preoccupied with gliding her tongue along the inside of Stevie’s mouth. _Fuuuck._ Stevie could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, and how was it going this fast?

And then, much to Stevie’s chagrin, Alexis was pulling away, just a bit, enough for Stevie to see her face. Her light pink lipstick was gone. Her lids were heavy, pupils blown. She was gorgeous.

She said, “Come on,” tugging on Stevie’s hands just like the night of the wedding—this time to lead her toward the bedroom.

Then began a flurry of shoes kicked off and buttons undone, and Stevie, usually one to take the lead, found herself being lowered against meticulously coordinated pillows, pinned down with Alexis’ arms on either side of her. They kissed again, this time a little slower, Stevie curling her fingers in Alexis’ hair, trailing her hands down her back, feeling the delicate curve of her spine through the fabric of her dress.

Alexis sat up suddenly, straddling Stevie’s hips as she pulled the garment over her head and tossed it to the floor. Stevie fumbled to finish unbuttoning her flannel shirt before shouldering it off in an ungraceful motion. She moved quickly, unhooking her bra and throwing it aside—motivated by the need to get her hands on Alexis again. It was like fire on her fingertips. 

Meanwhile, Alexis was watching her, looking her up and down, as if she were some kind of dessert waiting to be consumed. “Oh,” she said, quietly, teasingly, “Hi there.”

Stevie said, breathless, “Don’t ‘hi’ me. Get over here,” but she was smiling as she grabbed Alexis by her smug face and tugged her back down for another kiss. She tried not to think too hard about her lack of dexterity as she moved her hands down Alexis’ shoulders and then behind her, unclasping Alexis’ bra (Jesus, this was much harder to do on someone else, especially when that someone else was all over her). She kept her lips locked on Alexis’ all the while, reveling in the heat of her body. Alexis moaned softly, and Stevie thought briefly that she must be doing _something_ correctly.

She could feel Alexis unbuttoning her jeans, and Stevie lifted her hips to assist, resisting the urge to shudder as Alexis’ warm hands brushed against her thighs. In a perfect display of teamwork they got Stevie’s pants completely off, and Alexis drew back from Stevie a little, her lips pulling away with a light _pop._

Stevie followed Alexis’ gaze downward and gulped. Alexis was gently tugging on Stevie’s black hipster-cut panties, wriggling them lower and lower until Stevie was able to kick them off. While she did so, Alexis backed up toward the edge of the bed so that her upper body was nestled between Stevie’s legs.

She peered up at Stevie, eyes glistening, and smiled that lopsided grin, and Stevie felt the fire come alive in the pit of her stomach again—with a touch of something else…fear? Nerves?

“Um, I haven’t really … ever … ” she stammered, and between how hot Alexis was making her and how vulnerable the moment was, Stevie felt like her body temp had increased by ten degrees.

“Hey.” Alexis kissed the inside of Stevie’s thigh, which in and of itself was almost enough to get her going. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She’d never seen Alexis take control like this. Sure, she was demanding and firm in her professional life and was always very clear about what she wanted—but this was different. This was a side of her Stevie had never seen and had to admit she really, _really_ liked.

Alexis started trailing kisses up Stevie’s body, stopping every so often to leave a little nibble on her skin or to pay extra attention to a birthmark with her tongue. Stevie threw her head back, trying to keep her breathing steady, a combination of awe and desire taking over. As soon as Alexis had moved far enough upward that she could reach her, Stevie tangled her fingers in her hair.

She felt the abrupt loss of Alexis’ fingers on her hips as Alexis placed one hand on the bed flush against Stevie’s torso, propping herself up a bit.

And the other…

Alexis’ face was mere inches from Stevie’s now, and she looked her in the eyes. Stevie felt the fingers of Alexis’ other hand flutter down, down, down, then tease the surface of the warmth between her legs. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Stevie choked out, holding her gaze and nodding vigorously. “Please. Yes.”

And Alexis slipped a finger into her, then another after a few moments, and exhaled an “ _Oh_ ,” of surprise, and Stevie could hardly believe it either, just how much she wanted this, how right it felt.

“Fuck,” Stevie hissed as Alexis’ hand found its deft way inside her, moving in slow, rhythmic thrusts. Stevie sloppily pressed kisses to the side of the other woman’s mouth, to her cheekbone, to the soft spot under her ear, all the while arching her hips up against Alexis, refusing to let any parts of their bodies go without touching.

She felt Alexis’ fingers curving upward just so, and _there_ , oh, fuck, _there—_

“Oh, _God_ ,” she gasped. “Fuck. _Please_. Alexis, please.” 

“You like this, babe?” Alexis whispered, the fucking _nerve_ of her, asking a question like that. Stevie could only bring herself to whimper and nod, and Alexis moved her hand just a little faster, and that was all she needed, that was it—

“Alexis, I’m.” Stevie threw her head back again, eyes screwed shut. “I’m gonna—”

“It’s okay.” Alexis’ voice was trembling now. “Come for me.”

And Stevie did, her whole body tumbling into climax like waves to the shore as she cried out, and _fuck,_ it was like nothing else, like none of the times before. Was this what it was always supposed to feel like?

She could just make out the sensation of Alexis kissing her neck softly once, then twice, the touch slowly bringing her back to the present and allowing her to retake control of her body. She lie there for several clusters of seconds, clutching the back of Alexis’ head as she felt her gently remove her fingers. Alexis was still breathing hard. Stevie tried to regulate her heartbeat so she didn’t fucking pass out like an idiot in the middle of _sex with Alexis_. 

“I _want_.” Though Stevie’s limbs were still shaking, she managed to sit up, then firmly grab Alexis’ hips and switch their positions, pinning down Alexis. “I want to do you.” 

Alexis’ breath hitched and she shook her head. Her hair fell loosely on the pillow around her like a halo. “Watching you was. I…” She closed her eyes, and Stevie looked down and saw Alexis was touching herself with the same hand she’d just had inside Stevie, rubbing her fingers in slow circles against her clit.

And well, Stevie figured if she couldn’t fully return the favor, she could at least offer some assistance.

She dipped her head low. “You—are so—hot,” she whispered between mouthing Alexis’ right breast. She nosed along her chest until she found the other.

She felt Alexis writhe under her, moaning, her chest rising and falling more rapidly. Stevie smiled before wrapping her lips around the pert nipple, giving a tiny, playful bite. 

“ _Ah!_ ” Alexis squeaked, and Stevie leaned into the reaction, swirling her tongue in slow motion around the tender skin there for a few seconds before switching back over. “So sexy.”

Alexis hummed and squirmed, clearly enjoying the compliments, and Stevie was happy to continue to oblige, as it was nothing short of the truth and her sex-addled brain really couldn’t come up with much else at the moment, anyway. “Do you even know how gorgeous you are? Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?”

Because it was true—Stevie hadn’t realized it, not until a month ago, just how fucking much she’d wanted Alexis Rose, more than she’d ever wanted anything. She’d wanted her as soon as Alexis had stepped foot into town and given her outfit a judgey once-over. 

She trailed kisses upward, pausing to nibble at Alexis’ collarbone, then sucking at a spot on her neck, reveling in the one-syllable whines escaping Alexis’ mouth.

And then Stevie lifted her head and met Alexis’ eyes. She wasn’t afraid anymore. She held her blue gaze in her own dark eyes and said, “You’re fucking beautiful,” and that was when Alexis fell apart beneath her, and even then, shuddering and messy, she was perfect.

They lay there for an indeterminable amount of time after, Alexis’ ridiculously soft down comforter creating a nest-like little home from which Stevie never wanted to emerge.

Stevie, on her side and resting her cheek on her hand, kept looking at Alexis, who was looking back at her. She didn’t want to break her gaze. _I promise I’m never going a single second without looking at that face again_ , she told herself, but it was a short-lived endeavor as she slipped into sleep, Alexis’ arm draped solidly around her waist.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a successful business meeting, Stevie meets up with Alexis at a cafe. What she sees surprises her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. I've taken a while to update this because I wanted to focus on BLM movement--and I still do. If you can't go out and protest, find some way to educate yourself each day, purchase from a Black-owned business, or donate to a BLM-related cause. It's our job as non-Black folks to elevate Black voices and stand in solidarity.
> 
> Black Lives Matter. Do your part.

Stevie looked at her reflection in the black screen of her locked phone. The sex hair was _out of control_ , which made sense considering she and Alexis had gone for a few more rounds the night before, breaking only to cook mac and cheese for dinner. (“It’s my cheat meal, and I just burned _so_ many calories,” Alexis had rationalized to nobody but herself, as Stevie was literally shoveling several spoonfuls of the stuff into her own mouth and could only hear every other word.)

Now, as the morning sunlight made its way through Alexis’ bedroom window, they were side by side in comfortable silence. Alexis was scrolling through Instagram by the looks of it. Stevie finally checked her messages for the first time since the day before, seeing a missed text message from Patrick from last night asking, “So???? How’s it going???”

**[Sent 7:22am]  
** :) :) :) :) :)

Stevie bit her lip to keep from laughing as the three little dots popped up onscreen, indicating that Patrick was typing.

**Patrick [Received 7:22am]**  
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

She could just picture his expression, eyes wide like when she told an inappropriate joke, and couldn’t resist:

**[Sent 7:23am]  
** ;)

**Patrick [Received 7:23am]  
** STEVIE

**Patrick [Received 7:23am]  
** WHAT THE HELL

She felt Alexis nudge her shoulder. “Who you texting?”

Stevie locked her phone again, shifting to face Alexis fully. “Oh, just checking in with Patrick on how David is doing without me. He’s very fragile, you know.”

“The _most._ ” Alexis was mid-eyeroll before it appeared she registered the person in front of her, and then she was pressing her lips together, a laugh right at the edge of her expression.

Stevie blinked. “What.”

“It’s just.” Alexis let out a one-syllable laugh. “Your hair is, like. Happening.”

“Excuse me,” Stevie grumbled, mock-offended, reaching up to tousle Alexis’ locks. “As if yours is impeccably styled right now.”

Alexis tossed her head from side to side. “I mean, it sort of falls perfectly regardless? I’m _very_ lucky.”

And Stevie couldn’t help herself, watching her, the tease of her naked body peeking out from under the covers, pretty pink cheek against the pillow, soft sleepy eyes. She blurted, “I’m pretty lucky, too.”

Alexis grinned, leaning in for a leisurely kiss. Stevie ran a hand down Alexis’ arm, finding her hand to lace their fingers together. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed last night,” Alexis said when they pulled apart, and she sounded almost bashful, which was all kinds of cute.

Stevie tried not to nod too enthusiastically because looking like an eager puppy was not something she ever wanted to try for. “You’re really really good at…that.” She gestured vaguely. “All of it.”

"Thank you _so_ much!” Alexis squealed, channeling her mother if Mrs. Rose had ever been awarded an Emmy in any version of reality. She sat up a little against the pillows and sighed contentedly. “ _Far_ from my first rodeo.”

Stevie scooted over to rest her chin on Alexis’ shoulder. “Do your parents know?”

She was hoping it wasn’t too personal a question—was there anything too personal between them now? Alexis was peering up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Um, it never really came up? David was always the one they spent time trying to understand.” Stevie frowned a little. It always managed to surprise her how little Mr. and Mrs. Rose had paid attention to their kids until moving to Schitt’s Creek. Frankly, it was impressive—and _she_ was the one with the actual deadbeat parents.

“I mean, David knew, though,” Alexis continued, “We both saw each other bring home girls, boys, whoever, in our teens, and it just wasn’t something we needed to address. And then, you know, we lost touch for a long time.”

Stevie gently ran her fingers up and down the inside of Alexis’ thigh before letting her hand rest on her leg, hoping to convey some comfort. 

But if Stevie knew Alexis at all, she knew the latter never liked to dwell on sad things too long, so it was no surprise a few seconds later Stevie felt her pressing little kisses to the top of her head, to her forehead, then to her nose. 

She bit her lip, then bit Alexis’ bare shoulder lightly. “I’m still only about 60% sure this is happening.”

Alexis trailed her fingers through Stevie’s hair, occasionally massaging her scalp, which felt damn fucking good. “Why?”

Lulled into relaxation, Stevie admitted, “I just didn’t think you liked me…like that.”

“I didn’t think _you_ liked me like that!” Alexis half-yelled, almost accusingly, which made Stevie jump a little. “Do you remember when we kissed at Patrick’s party?”

“Ugh, barely. I was so drunk, and I was glued to my phone trying to cling to a relationship that wasn’t going to work.” Stevie sighed, tilting her head up a bit. “I wish I could go back in time and kiss you better.”

Alexis looked down at her and wiggled her eyebrows.“Um, hi, you’re more than making up for it now.”

Stevie snorted, and Alexis suddenly huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And, like, for the record. Flirting with you in person was _so hard_. Texting is so much easier. Way lower chance of sounding stupid.”

“If it helps, both methods definitely worked,” Stevie replied, “And you’re not stupid. You’re far from stupid.” Stevie kissed her cheek. “You’re kind of amazing, actually?”

“I know.” Alexis gave a small shrug. “Doesn’t hurt I surround myself with, like, _all_ the right people.”

Stevie’s heart leapt at that despite herself. And there was a relief there, too—a relief in not having to wrack her anxiety-ridden brain to question what Alexis meant. When she said “the right people,” that included Stevie, too. 

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, occasionally kissing, Stevie knowing full well she had to get ready for her meeting but choosing not to care. Finally, after a while, she flopped back against the pillow, peered up at the ceiling, and said, “The missing piece.”

In her peripheral vision she saw Alexis turn to face her. “Hm?”

“The missing puzzle piece we were talking about on video the other day. Or, the one that you said I had all along, but couldn’t find a place for?” Stevie surprised herself with the resoluteness in her words and in her voice. “It’s this. It’s letting myself be…this.”

Then Alexis leaned over and kissed her again, soft, and Stevie broke it, like an idiot, by _smiling_ , of all things. Fucking gross.  


“Mhm.” Alexis booped Stevie’s nose. “I was hoping it might be.”

* * *

“So, basically.” Stevie folded her hands in front of her, hoping no one noticed her tapping her foot nervously under the table in the conference room. “Mr. Aden and Ms. Greene, if you chose to join the Rosebud Group, it wouldn’t _just_ be your motel coming under our umbrella, um. It would be you guys, too. We operate like a family.” She thought of Mr. Rose. She thought of David. And she thought of Alexis, which was a Bad Idea, because now her face was getting hot. “A family that takes care of each other.”’

She’d practiced this little speech she’d written about ten times on the plane, and then once in front of Alexis this morning, whose only feedback was to “smize a little more” which was entirely unhelpful in the context of a motel chain pitch meeting, but really, had she expected anything else?

Stevie felt beads of perspiration gather on the back of her neck as the two motel owners briefly turned to each other to speak in hushed tones. David had been right to pick the purple— _magenta_ top for her to wear. This one hid her sweat stains the best. 

April Greene, co-owner of the ever-so-illustrious Pineapple Motel chain on the outskirts of Jersey City, turned back to Stevie. “Thank you very much, Ms. Budd. I have to say—your passion, it really shines through.”

Stevie wanted to say, “What? Where?” But instead she said, “Oh, uh. Thank you.”

“I’m not just saying that,” the young woman went on, leaning back in her seat. “It sounds like your team has something very special.” She exchanged a look with her partner. “And we’d love to be part of it.”

Stevie laughed nervously and then realized the woman was serious. “O-oh! Okay! That’s. That’s so great. We would be thrilled to have you.”

“We have to work out a few logistics,” Mr. Aden said, closing the folder he had in front of him, “But we are absolutely looking forward to continuing this conversation. Could we schedule a follow-up call?”

“Yes; yes, of course.” Stevie was reeling, fumbling to retrieve her laptop from her bag. Had she just handled a pitch meeting, in New York City, on her own, _successfully_? 

Between this, and, well, _everything_ with Alexis, perhaps Mr. Rose really had done her a favor by sending her out here.

As she walked out into the brisk air after the meeting finished, she exhaled a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She was doing it. She was _making_ it, defying even her own expectations, the expectations of the people who’d shaped her childhood, who’d made sure she’d spent every second of her life looking down, down, down, where she was told she’d end up. 

She felt _herself._

Stevie dialed Mr. Rose, putting on headphones so she could operate her GPS app. She was heading to meet Alexis at a cafe after their respective business meetings, and she couldn’t wait to tell her the news.

Exercise was not something she enjoyed generally—especially in the tiniest of heels and dress pants she was currently wearing—but Stevie found herself sort of gracelessly hop-jogging block to block.

“Stevie, this is fantastic!” Mr. Rose practically shouted into her ear; his propensity for increasing the volume of his speaking voice tenfold on the phone normally annoyed her, but she decided she was in the mood to let it slide. “I knew you’d do well. And I’m sure you’ll be great tomorrow, too. Maybe I should start sending you to the Big Apple more often, hm?”

Stevie didn’t really want to think about doing this all over again tomorrow, so she chose to ignore that bit. “I did a virtual tour of the Pineapple motels; they’re definitely outdated and there’s _so much_ we can do once they’re in our name. Plus, um, this acquisition will be the first to bring us into the tri-state area. I feel really good about it.”

“So do I. Now, when’s the video call? I have to put it in my agenda.”

Stevie turned a corner and resisted the urge to comment that nobody used paper agendas anymore. The little French cafe Alexis had chosen for them to grab a late lunch after their respective morning meetings was just a few feet away, and she didn’t bother to hide her excitement as she made her way to the door. 

The scents of strong espresso and fresh baked goods hit abruptly when she walked in. Damn, she was hungry.

She was in the middle of asking Mr. Rose if he’d touched base with Roland yet today when she froze.

Alexis was sitting in the back of the cafe, facing the entrance. She was smiling softly. A man sat across from her—tall, business suit, dark hair. And the two of them were holding hands atop the table.

“Uh.” Stevie swallowed hard. “Mr. Rose, I’m gonna call you back. Sorry.”

“Stevie, is everything—”

She hung up, taking off her headphones and wrapping the wire around her phone tightly. For a few moments, she simply watched. Occasionally people shoved past her to get to the exit, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Not yet.

Then she saw Alexis look past the man and meet her gaze. Her eyes widened noticeably enough for the man to turn around in his seat, and then they were _both_ looking at her. 

Well, fuck. _May as well get this over with._

Stevie weaved her way to the corner table and Alexis all but screeched, “Hey! You made it!” 

“Uh-huh.” Stevie nodded and looked down at her shoes. Suddenly she felt ridiculous in her professional attire.

She heard Alexis continue, “Sorry this was—I guess we ran a bit over. _Time_ , am I right?”

Neither Stevie nor the man said anything, so Alexis went on, her speech increasing in speed with each word, “This is—this is Mark. Um, Mark, this is my friend, Stevie.”

Stevie forced herself to lift her head and said, “Hi.” The guy had really nice green eyes; he was cute. She shifted from foot to foot for a few seconds and then gestured to the door. “I, uh, sorry. I’m interrupting. I’m just gonna…”

“No, no—we were just finishing up here.” The man stood up. He looked about as uncomfortable as Stevie felt as he adjusted his jacket, looked down at Alexis and said,“I’ll…see you around, Alexis.”

Alexis gave an awkward close-lipped smile. “Um, sure.”

He lightly brushed against Stevie to get past her and shuffled out the door, head down. Stevie watched him go, then turned back to Alexis, who was looking at her apologetically: furrowed brow, pleading eyes.

“So.” Stevie started compulsively unwrapping and wrapping the wire headphones around her phone. “Business meeting, huh?”

“‘Kay, Stevie, I know what this looks like—why don’t you sit down and—”

“It’s okay.” Stevie tossed a glance down to the table cluttered with coffee cups and plates, then back up at Alexis. “It looks like you already ate. And I think I just…I think I’m tired. So.” She shrugged and turned away, charging toward the exit.

Alexis’ flabbergasted voice trailed behind her: “Stevie, you don’t know how to get to—Stevie, _wait up_!”

She wasn’t wrong. Stevie didn’t even have a key to Alexis’ place, let alone a clue how to get there. But the overwhelming thoughts building up in her mind, slowly building the wall she knew she’d need to get through this, kept her moving.

Alexis caught up to her, though (damn her long legs), saying, “Come on, it’s this way. We can talk about this on the way back, okay?”

But Stevie didn’t want to talk. Stevie didn’t want to hash out whatever conversation needed to be had in public. So she remained completely—one might even argue stubbornly—silent.

All the while, she could practically feel Alexis vibrating with anxiety next to her as they walked, as they headed down to the train station, as they boarded the 6. Stevie looked down at the dirty car floor, gripping the pole tight. Alexis was so warm and so close—had to be, on a crowded train like this. 

“Are you just not going to talk to me now?” Alexis asked, voice barely audible over the sound of the screeching train, more vulnerable than Stevie had ever really heard her.

Even if Stevie wanted to talk, the fear of bursting into tears as soon as she opened her mouth kept her quiet.

And what would the tears be for, anyway?

She and Alexis had slept together. Once. Well, several times in one night. Stevie had done that with many guys, _many_ times before. Just because a one-night stand happened to be with your friend didn’t mean you had to bring feelings into the equation. Of course not. And that had to be what Alexis had been thinking all along.

But somehow, Stevie had thought everything leading up to it—all the texts, the phone calls, the small glances and the bigger gestures—had meant this was something more.

_Stupid_ , that familiar voice hissed, returning to the forefront of her thoughts for the first time since before she’d arrived in New York, _I told you. You were in too deep. Now look what happened._

As soon as Alexis let them into the apartment, she made a straight line for the couch, blindly shoving her clothes in haphazard clumps into her suitcase. She could feel Alexis watching her and knew she was probably doing that nervous thing with her face, her lips pressed together tightly as she physically fought to keep words from coming out of her like a waterfall.

“Stevie,” she said after a while, carefully, tentatively, “would you _please_ just let me explain?”

Stevie walked into the bathroom to retrieve her toothbrush and toiletries and called behind her, “Sure.” She surprised herself with how calm she sounded. 

“Mark and I had a thing. Like, it’s just been happening for a couple of months.” _Oh, just a couple. Okay. So she was still seeing him when we …_ “A-and he wouldn’t stop _texting_ me, so I told him to meet me today. I was breaking it off with him at the cafe. I _swear._ ”

Upon reentering the room Stevie replied, voice even, “You should probably know for future reference that’s _not_ what it looked like.”

“I know, I _know_ ,” Alexis cried, voice impossibly high in full-blown panic.

“So did you?” Stevie zipped up her bag with the last of her things, staring down intently at a small hole on the side. She was afraid of the answer, but knew she’d regret if she didn’t ask.

“I…” Alexis paused and Stevie looked up, watching as she bit her lip, shook her head a few times. “I was _getting_ there.” She tilted her head, eyes pleading, and lifted her hands to her chest, touching her fingertips together. “You know me. I am _very_ bad at these conversations!”

Stevie nodded. Looked down at the floor. Looked up again, regretting it instantly, because Alexis was still looking at her and her eyes were wet. “Well, I’ll make this one easy for you then.”

She watched Alexis’ face crumple, and it almost broke her, right then and there. But she wasn’t going to let herself falter. Not this time. “Stevie—”

“No, look. I totally get it.” Stevie threw her hands up. “I’ve been there. You had a really…powerful thing with Ted, and it hasn’t been that long, and with stuff like that, you need a rebound to reset. Maybe several.” 

“But that’s not—”

“I just don’t really want to be one of the several.” She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and grabbed her suitcase by the handle. The motions felt automated, like Stevie was watching herself from somewhere else, not in control. “So I’m. I’m gonna go.”

She inched past Alexis, who seemed to be glued to her spot in the middle of the living room as if it would stop Stevie from leaving. 

Stevie approached the door and heard Alexis stutter, “But, um, where—where are you going to stay?”

“Booked a hotel when there was cell service on the subway.” Stevie half-turned and there was Alexis, facing her, arms limp at her sides with palms open as if in appeal. Tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes. Stevie felt her own tears inching up to the surface, stinging.

“Stevie.” The sound of her name on Alexis’ lips, the desperation in the syllables, the hurt, the need—it was too much. 

Stevie said, monotone: “Thanks for letting me stay.”

And she left before Alexis and her voice could draw her back to the flame.

* * *

The room was small, dark, uninviting—a hole-in-the-wall in Hell’s Kitchen, one of the few places in the city that had last-minute vacancies. Stevie sat on the end of the bed, still in her pantsuit, shoes abandoned in the corner of the room. Her once meticulously pinned hair was now a messy bun, strands sticking out in all directions.

Her phone went off as she was about to contemplate getting up to take a shower. She had several missed calls from Mr. Rose, and most recently, a text from David.

**David [Received 2:59pm]**  
you never sent me your opinion on that coffee table we ordered?????? patrick thinks the cherrywood is too dark but i think it’s classy and i know i’m right, you just need to back me up

She sighed. Texting back seemed like too much effort.

Stevie began to strip out of the day’s costume, tossing her suit to the floor in a heap. By the time she was standing in the middle of the room in her underwear, a shower _also_ started to feel like too much effort. Her phone buzzed again.

**David [Received 3:03pm]**  
are you ALIVE????

**[Sent 3:04pm]**  
All good. Be back tomorrow

Stevie fixed her gaze on the ceiling. Let the tears fall freely, skating down the sides of her face and onto the pillow, and eventually fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank-yous to dear Anna and Lauren for taking a look at this chapter for me. 
> 
> Black lives still matter, even if it's not trending anymore. I'm trying to focus on at least one action a day for the movement, whether that be having a tough conversation with a family member or amplifying charities and GoFundMes that support Black folks in need.

Stevie had always been the (self-proclaimed) Queen of Minimal Effort. In fact, until she’d partnered with Mr. Rose, she’d prided herself on her ability to give as few fucks as possible about anything but a good crime novel or several glasses of wine at the end of the day.

She hadn’t employed this sense of ambivalence in quite some time. Because somehow, in the last few years, she’d managed to find a stake in her own future, multiple reasons to get up in the morning, a sense of obligation to come to work mostly on-time, and—what was that, _caring_? 

But today, walking into the fancy Marriott conference room to meet with the Yonkers chain executives, Stevie was leaning _hard_ into her special skillset. The art of apathy was all she had to ground her until her flight home later in the afternoon—she’d be damned if she let her stupid emotions get in the way of her fairly newfound professionalism. 

Last night she’d returned Mr. Rose’s calls to discuss the follow-up plans for the Pineapple Motels, hoping he couldn’t sense anything was wrong. Luckily, he'd seemed to be too overjoyed with the potential collaboration to notice. 

But as they’d wrapped up their conversation, Mr. Rose had asked what she’d been up to with Alexis, and it had taken everything in Stevie just to reply without her voice breaking, using as few words as possible: “Oh, lots of stuff. New York is pretty cool.”

“Gosh, Moira and I had some fun times back in the day—there’s this rooftop bar in Chelsea … I tell you, Alexis loves having you there! She wouldn’t stop talking about it when we last spoke … "

And then Stevie had made an excuse about getting another call, hung up the phone, curled up on the hotel bed and casually wished for the sweet embrace of death.

There was no time for that bullshit today. Three middle-aged white dudes were waiting to hear her proposal, after all. She straightened her suit jacket, threw her shoulders back, and turned off her feelings.

“Hi, Stevie Budd from the Rosebud Motel Group. Really great to talk to you today.”

* * *

_The meeting went fine,_ Stevie thought as she boarded the plane. _It was fine._

In truth, the vibe the execs had given off was more along the lines of, “we’ll be in touch” rather than “we’re looking forward to working with you,” and Stevie couldn’t help but wonder if maybe turning _all_ the emotion off had been the best idea.

Ms. Greene had told her yesterday that she exuded passion. It had certainly thrown Stevie—the idea that she actually presented anything beyond mild enthusiasm at any given moment. But the fact was, Stevie knew she was good at what she did. She was still learning, of course—Mr. Rose was a good mentor, if a little preachy—but she’d gotten this far, and there was nowhere to go but up. At least, it had felt that way until today.

Knowing that she had been unable to give this meeting her all because one of the Rose siblings had managed to fuck her up _once again_ was not only embarrassing. It was _irritating._

She threw her head back against the headrest, trying not to think about the fact that she had a middle seat for her flight home. Classic.

Stevie texted Mr. Rose, “Meeting went OK, family-run chain so they’re a little hesitant. Bringing info back to their people, will get back to us by Tuesday. Taking off soon.”

As soon as she hit “send,” she got a notification that made her stomach jump. 

**Alexis [Received 5:19pm]**  
Safe travels back

It was the first communication from Alexis since Stevie had left the apartment, and if Stevie was honest, she’d been hoping Alexis would just ghost her and move on. Seemed like the easiest approach to the situation.

But deep down she knew it wasn’t realistic. They were friends, after all, if nothing else. 

If never anything else.

**Sent [5:20pm]**  
Thanks

Stevie turned off her phone, sadness tugging at the corners of her mind again, and wished for sleep as the captain’s voice rang tinnily through the aircraft.

* * *

She had been home a solid thirty minutes—flat on her bed, face buried in the duvet—before deciding she should probably make some moves.

Groaning, Stevie sat up, reaching for her phone which she’d thrown haphazardly on her side table. She had several missed calls and texts from both David and Patrick and a message from Twyla asking how her trip had been. Even reading the notifications was exhausting. But she did have to make one call.

Stevie shuddered a little, feeling gross, layers of airport-terminal stuck to her clothing. Holding her phone between her ear and her shoulder, she made her way over to the bathroom and turned on the shower. 

After a few rings, she croaked into the receiver: “I’m sick, Roland.”

She heard Roland make a sucking sound with his teeth on the other line. “Got the New York bug, huh?”

Stevie ran a hand over her face, shuffling to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of whiskey to await her as a reward for bathing herself. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh, Joce and I got it a few years back. Sick as _dogs_ as soon as we got off the bus. Although we _had_ packed my mom’s famous tuna salad sandwiches to eat on the ride…”

“Roland.” Stevie leaned against the refrigerator, closing her eyes. “I’m just calling to ask if you’re good to handle the hotel for one more day tomorrow.”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Roland scoffed. “Why do people keep asking me that? You know, I received a compliment from a guest yesterday on my _exceptionally satisfactory_ service _._ His words.”

“Great.” Stevie sabotaged her own motivation plan by taking a long gulp of whiskey. “I’ll be back on Sunday. I’ll call tomorrow morning.”

“Sure thing.” He let out a one-syllable chuckle. “Geez, does Johnny know how much time you’re taking off? I mean, first a New York vacation, and now—” She hung up.

Stevie let the rest of the night sort of fall into itself, each moment indistinguishable from the next. Shower. Drink. Snack on stale popcorn. Drink. Drink. Drink …

She didn’t remember falling asleep—only that her last thought before succumbing to the stupor was, _I wanna skip to the part when this is over._

* * *

“Stevieeee! Open up!”

There was perhaps nothing more jarring to someone in a deep sleep than the sound of David Rose’s voice at full volume.

Jolted awake, Stevie whined, “What the _fuck_ ,” as the almost frantic sounds of David’s knuckles rapping on her front door filled the room.

Stevie lifted her face briefly to see sunlight streaming through her window. She groaned into her pillow. “Mmmmmnnnnooooo,” she called halfheartedly. Surely this would deter him.

Stevie was dehydrated, and sad, and this was her sick day to feel as dehydrated and sad as she wanted.

“Stevie, open the door. I have wine and it’s—” A pause. “12:01pm, which means it’s now acceptable to drink.”

“Fuuuuck me.” Stevie dropped her legs over the side of the bed, shoving them into a pair of sweatpants before dragging herself to the door, swinging it open.

David stood before her, one hand on his hip while the other held up a bottle of red. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but assumed they were full of judgment as he snapped, “I’m giving up my _lunch break_ for this. Do you think I _enjoy_ leaving Patrick alone with the argyles?” 

Stevie had just enough energy to quirk a brow at him, stepping aside to let him in and shut the door. “Why do you have wine?”

David shrugged, walking past her to place the bottle on the kitchen counter. “Well, my dad just called and mentioned how well you did with the pitch-thingies. So. Celebration?” He shimmied a little as he lifted his shades to the top of his head. “Also, I stole this bottle from the store. Don’t repeat that.”

“You’re …” Stevie lifted a hand, then dropped it to her side again. Just looking at David, she felt the hot wetness welling up behind her eyes, and ah, _fuck_ , why couldn’t she have picked _right now_ to put all her feelings on the back-burner? Her next words came out more like a shaky whisper than she would have liked. “That’s so _nice_ , David. You’re so—”

And then the fat tears started to cascade down the sides of her face.

“Oh, _God_.” David was blinking rapidly, looking at her as if she were an alien creature that had just beamed down to Earth. “Um, what’s happening?”

In between little gasping attempts to catch her breath, Stevie shuffled over to her unmade bed and sat down on the edge, leaning over with her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands.

“Uh,” she said, her palms digging into her eyes in an attempt to create some sort of dam.

Several long seconds passed and she could feel David watching her. There was no point in hiding anymore. And honestly, she really needed her best friend right now—assuming he could stand the sight of her after what she was about to tell him. _Just fucking do it, Budd_.

“I … I like your sister?” Despite the flurry of emotions hitting her all at once, she was relieved to be able to say it. She added, quieter, “And she broke my heart a little?”

Stevie forced herself to look at him across the room, wrapping her arms around herself in hopes it would protect her from the storm that was a wrathful David Rose.

But David just nodded once. Crossed his arms over his chest. Said simply, “Aha. There it is.”

Stevie sniffled, taking in his calm demeanor incredulously and slowly moving out of her defensive position. “Huh?”

“You like my sister,” David said, and for some reason him saying it into the air between them made it real, made it sting just a little more. A little half-sob escaped Stevie’s lips.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she choked out, “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Stevie could barely see the blurry form that was David coming over to sit on the bed.

As she felt the weight shift beside her, she averted her eyes to her lap, feeling feverish all over, the words spilling out as she explained details in stilted sentences—about about Broadway songs, about holding hands, about the too-attractive guy at the cafe.

And then she squeezed her eyes shut for what she knew would be the biggest admission of all: “And uh, Patrick—Patrick knew. He’s been giving me advice. Don’t be mad. Are you mad? I told him not to tell you.”

Stevie found herself sort of doing this slight rocking motion back and forth, picking at her cuticles, staring at the floor. She thought how she needed to clean it, and how this was all stupid anyway; she should just get dressed and go to work and stop Roland from setting the motel on fire or something.

But then there was David’s voice—soft—cutting through the crashing sounds of her thoughts ramming into each other like a multi-car wreck.

“‘Kay, _first._ I’ve known for weeks.” Stevie shot her head up to peer at him in horror, and he elaborated with a small shrug: “Well. I had an _inkling_ which was confirmed yesterday when you went all ‘missing person’ on me.”

Stevie blinked. “W-what?”

“Don’t get me wrong; I had to _wring_ it out of Patrick—I wouldn’t blame him. I was _truly_ ruthless.” He stared straight ahead, avoiding her gaze. “Second, um, I wanted you to tell me when you were ready.”

Stevie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s…suspiciously kind of you.” She took a few even breaths, feeling slightly calmer. 

“I _know_.” David looked back at her now that his admission of being a decent human was out of the way. “And while I’m _deeply_ disturbed that you’ve attempted to court both Alexis and me—”

_Shit_.

“Well.” Stevie cleared her throat and wrung her hands. “Uh, in the spirit of transparency, as of three nights ago, that’s not the only thing I’ve done with you both.”

“Oh, my _God_.” Suddenly David’s eyes were saucers, and he threw a hand over his mouth. “Oh, my God, _ew_! You slept with my sister! Oh, my _God_!” He stood up, beginning to pace a bit, flailing his hands about as if he could shoo the knowledge out of his brain.  
  
Stevie ran a hand through her hair, face hot with shame. “I’m…sorry?”

David pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes raised to the ceiling. “No, it’s fine.”

“B-but I know it must be weird for you.” Stevie’s voice was shaking again, and _Jesus, Budd, you_ cannot _start crying again_. 

Stevie thought once more of how this wasn’t the first time she’d developed feelings for a Rose, how just a few years ago, she would’ve dropped everything and moved to New York with David—just to be around the glow of him all the time. Just to feel something.

She went on, “It was weird for me too. F-for a while. Because of our…weird. Thing, a while back.”

David stopped pacing, looked down at her, and—much to her surprise—just rolled his eyes. “Say ‘weird’ one more time. And yeah, it fucking _is_. But look.” He made a show of huffing loudly and sat down again, more heavily this time.

“We hooked up twice, a few years ago, because we didn’t know what else to _do_ in a town that we thought had _nothing_ to offer us. We felt our feelings about it, and that was that.” He waved a hand as if to dismiss the whole friends-with-benefits stage of their relationship—which Stevie greatly appreciated—and concluded, “I’m assuming whatever this is with Alexis is different.”

She wanted to say no. She wanted to say, _This is stupid, I’ll be over it soon_. But however reticent she was to admit it, David was right—they both really had been different people then. David had been what Stevie needed at the time, and vice-versa. This thing with Alexis felt more … solid? Something. She couldn’t quite place it.

“I…I think so. Yeah,” she finally answered, swallowing thickly. “Or. It’s different for me, at least.”

David nodded and said, “Mhm,” and then they just sat there, and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Stevie thought it would be. She could feel the thrum of her heartbeat slowing in her chest; with any luck it would be at normal speed by the end of the day.

After a while, David knocked his knee against hers. “So, why did you wait so long to tell me?”

Stevie shrugged, focusing intently on a hangnail on her right pinky. “Honestly? I didn’t know if it was going to really turn into anything. Which. Well. I guess it did, kind of. And also, I didn’t…”

_I didn’t want you to murder me. I didn’t want you to judge me. I didn’t want—_

“I didn’t want to, uh … lose you?” The truth of the words made her stomach hurt a little, and she looked up at him, awaiting his reaction.

David’s eyes were fixed on his lap, but Stevie could make out the little twist of a smile on his lips as he said, “Well, yeah. I _am_ a catch.”

She elbowed him in the side. “Fuck off, I’m trying to be _vulnerable_ here.”

David bit down on his lower lip. “Uh-huh. Please continue.”

“It’s just…”Stevie clenched her hands into tight fists on her lap. “You and Patrick, your dad and mom, Alexis. You’re my _family_. I don’t ever want to go back to what my life was like before your entitled ass first asked me for an extra towel.”

She watched as David’s expression transformed rapidly from a self-satisfied smirk to that blinking thing where he tried (and usually failed) not to cry. Good. She wasn’t going to let him leave this conversation dry-eyed.

“All I remember is that I was unhappy and I wasn’t myself,” she continued. “But knowing you—I’m better for it. I can’t … imagine being without you, David, okay? And I feel like I owe it to you to be the best version of myself.” She sighed, rubbing her eyes a bit. “Even though I’m, uh, not really sure if I know who that is.”

David hummed, crossing his arms over his chest, and Stevie thought she might have actually left him with nothing to say, which was a rarity. But then he was throwing her that trademark half-smile.

“I actually think you know _exactly_ who that is,” he said, voice thick with the emotion he’d been trying so hard not to betray. _Valiant effort by all parties_ , Stevie thought _. Truly._ “I mean, at least I do. Specifically, um.”

He cleared his throat and tilted his head up to the ceiling. “Someone who’s smart in a way that isn’t too obnoxious, genuinely funny, and … a good friend. So.” He shrugged as if he were discussing the weather, which was equal parts irritating and endearing. “If Alexis helps bring all that out of you, then that’s just a social sacrifice I will have to make.”

And that was when Stevie understood. The realization fell over her like cool water, and she let out a long breath.

Stevie had been with many men in her life, with one common denominator: they had been what she needed at the time. Sex, fun, validation … completeness.

But with Alexis, it wasn’t a _need_ —to feel something, to be whole, to prove her worth—it was a _want_. A desire to be the complete person Stevie knew she was on her own, _with_ someone who would fully embrace that person.

Who knew David, of all people, would be the one to get her to see that?

“You’re a good friend, too,” she said, unabashedly crying again.

David wiped his eyes and said offhandedly, “Of course I am.” He paused, brow furrowed, appearing to be wrestling with his thoughts for a moment before he continued, “Look. I can’t stress enough how fucking uncomfortable this is for me, giving you advice.”

He tilted his head from side to side, as if weighing the pros and cons of letting Stevie in on the workings of his sister’s mind. “But I know Alexis. She’s not great with taking initiative, like, romantically. And she’s probably licking her wounds right now. But she knows what she wants. And from what I’ve pieced together, she wants you. So give it time.”

Stevie nodded and sighed, feeling for the first time like she could breathe again. She let her head drop to David’s shoulder and said, so quiet she wasn’t sure he could even hear her: “I know she didn’t mean it. But. I just didn’t expect it to hurt? Like this?”

“Yeah.” She felt David wrap his arm around her and give her shoulders a squeeze, resting his chin atop her head. “I know.”

They stayed that way for a few moments, but Stevie wasn’t about to let the sentimentality drape itself over them for too long. She and David didn’t work like that.

So she looked up at him, expression solemn. “I want you to know,” she said, slowly, reveling in the mix of confusion and anticipation on his face, “You guys are both like, really good with your tongues.”

David pulled away sharply, lifting his hands in front of his face as if to shield himself from the blow of what she’d just said. “I’m going to _literally murder you_.”

Stevie wiggled her eyebrows. “Yeah, but then you’d have no one to help you move on Wednesday.”

“I’m willing to take that risk—”

“Psh, no you’re not. You’re too delicate to lift the furniture.”

“Well, you’re uninvited to the house, then.”

“Ouch, David. If only Patrick wasn’t making me a key …”

“I’ll _make him change the locks_!”

* * *

That evening, Stevie was rounding out her sick day on Patrick’s couch watching, to her delight, _Alien vs. Predator_.

Patrick was on her right, close enough that their shoulders were touching. Meanwhile, David sat at the end of the couch and had managed to sprawl himself out so his long legs were resting on both her and Patrick’s laps—the price they had to pay for torturing him with the film. Patrick’s place was so empty now with almost everything packed, and yet the space felt impossibly, comfortingly warm.

“Okay, this level of gore is just _gratuitous_!” David shrieked, watching the screen through his fingers.

“David, you have to understand.” Patrick patted his leg affectionately. “This movie brings together two iconic franchises in an epic standoff. I’m honestly surprised there isn’t _more_ gore. Open your eyes for this part, it’s important—”

“Is it gross?”

“No.” Patrick looked at Stevie, eyes alight with amusement, and she couldn’t help but let a small smile make its way across her face—the first in a while. “Right, Stevie?”

“Not at all,” she said, and sure enough, David took his hands off his face just in time for one of Stevie’s favorite parts—the alien creature opening its mouth-within-a-mouth to spray Predator with green goop.

“Oh, _God_ ,” David’s hand flew to his mouth. “I’m gonna be sick. I hate you. _I HATE YOU BOTH_!”

“You can’t get sick _now_ , David, takeout is on the way—”

“I don’t want _food_ , Patrick!”

“Are you sure? Because I ordered extra dumplings.”

“Oh. Well. Okay, maybe _one_ dumpling …”

Stevie shook her head incredulously at the two of them and quipped in mock annoyance, “Shut the fuck up, both of you, this is _cinematic gold_.”

She was enjoying a sip of beer when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

**Alexis [Received 9:05pm]**  
Thinking of u. I hope ur okay.

Truthfully, Stevie wasn’t very okay. But as she watched her two best friends bicker, their presences holding her steady, she thought perhaps she would be soon enough. And in the spirit of transparency, she wrote back:

**[Sent 9:22pm]**  
I’m thinking of you too.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks for coming along for this ride, guys! There will be one more chapter and an epilogue after this. Thanks once again to Lauren and Anna for looking this over. :)
> 
> Black Lives Matter.

“Hmm…I don’t love it. Move it a little to the left and up.”

Stevie stood up fully after dropping her end of the living room couch with a light _thud_. She ran the back of her hand over her sweaty brow, and wondered if she would be the one to finally make it possible to kill someone with a glare.

Stevie knew they’d hired a couple of movers and a small truck for the larger items and appliances, but, much to David’s chagrin, Patrick had insisted they do the rest themselves because “you know, Stevie, these guys charge by the hour.” Classic.

Upon arrival at the cottage after work, she’d been pleasantly surprised to see Ronnie there, who’d evidently been helping for hours to speed along the process with the promise of alcohol. For a moment, Stevie had let herself think there wouldn’t be much for her to do.

But oh, how wrong she had been.

“David,” Patrick said from his side of the couch, clearly unable at this point in the evening to hide his exasperation, “We don’t have to put everything in place _right now._ ”

David scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, but I want the big stuff to at least vaguely exist where it’s supposed to. It saves us the work later.”

“ _Us_.” Stevie raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms. “Patrick, David thinks he’s part of our moving crew. Isn’t that funny?”

Patrick, in his sweat-stained shirt and worn jeans, took her banter as an opportunity to take a break, half-collapsing onto one of the cushions. “Hilarious.”

“Um, I told you I’m buying dinner.” David threw his hands up in self-defense. “And I’m the only one who understands effective furniture placement in this group!”

Then there was the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Stevie had honestly forgotten Ronnie was even _there_ until this exact moment, but there she was, leaning against the front doorframe and holding a beer, looking as unimpressed as ever.

David frantically added, “ _Besides_ Ronnie.”

She nodded and took a sip. “That’s what I thought you said.”

“Uh.” Patrick hesitated, a timid tone to his voice that only presented itself when Ronnie was around, and God, it was delightful to watch. “Ronnie…do you wanna help? With the couch?”

“Oh, no. I tapped out after the kitchen table.” She raised her bottle ceremoniously. “This is _all you_ , Brewer.”

Stevie bit her lower lip hard to hide a laugh as Patrick slowly stood up again, making his way to his designated side of the couch. “Okay, ready?”

“Ready.”

And then they started lifting and sliding again, and Stevie felt a lone bead of sweat cascade down the back of her neck into her oversized tank, and she was hot and sticky and could feel a flush in her cheeks, limbs sore and shaking, and the last time she felt like this it was the best feeling, the most authentic feeling, with someone she—

_Jesus fuck. Sad and horny enough to equate moving furniture to sex._

She quickly zoned in on David and Ronnie’s background conversation—idle talk about restocking cheese at the Apothecary, about the new bartender at The Wobbly Elm, about Ronnie’s latest remodeling project in the Town Hall.

Finally, David’s voice rang loud through the room: “Mkay. I think that works for now,” and Stevie once again let go of the arm of the couch with a huff.

She watched as David shuffled over to where Patrick was practically gasping for air, leaned over and kissed the side of his face, slipping an arm around his waist. “Thank you.”

Unable to hide the affection coming up from under his annoyance, Patrick let his forehead drop to David’s shoulder just as Stevie inquired, because she couldn’t _not_ , “Where’s my kiss?”

David threw her a pointed look. “Ew.” He then tapped the top of Patrick’s head before pulling away. “And ew, honey, you’re like, _moist._ Okay, what do people wanna eat? _La Rosa_?”

As Stevie took her turn to flop onto the couch, Ronnie came over to sit beside her, having finished off her beer. “I got a more important question. What’s this I hear about the store closing next week? Amara needs her supply of travel-size hand cream. My girl’s always on the go.”

Stevie fought the urge to roll her eyes. She’d known Ronnie since Stevie was a teenager, and she’d never seen her as happy as she was now with her new girlfriend, the femme blonde florist with _three whole dimples_ in her face when she smiled.

_Must be nice_ , said the voice in her head. _Shut up_ , Stevie thought back.

Patrick ran his hands over his damp face, absently kicking a rolled-up rug in the middle of the room. “Well, we’re just closing at the end of next week to get everything together because _someone_ wanted a ridiculously prompt housewarming party _next Saturday_.”

David’s head shot up from his phone. “Um, excuse me, it’s not my fault we had to close on the house so near the holidays. I don’t want my— _our_ —housewarming to be overshadowed by Christmas.”

“Naturally,” Ronnie nodded while Stevie quirked a brow and quipped, “You’re really gonna insult the baby Jesus that way?”

David ignored her. “And we won’t have to do up the office upstairs; we can leave that door closed. It’s a _soft_ opening.”

“…Of our house,” Patrick clarified, exchanging a look with Stevie. Ronnie snorted.

“Of our house,” David repeated, as if it made every bit of sense. 

Stevie decided she was going to draw the room’s attention back to the present, mostly because she was fucking hungry as hell from all the moving David had not been doing. “Can we get tacos now?”

“Please,” Patrick mumbled, leaning his entire body against a stack of boxes precariously. 

“Fine, fine.” Just as it appeared David was about to dial the number for the Mexican place nearby, the notes of Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” filled the half-empty space.

And then David’s dark brown eyes immediately met Stevie’s. “Um. Alexis is video-calling.”

_Oh._

“What?” Patrick gaped at Stevie for a moment, and she felt her stomach flip. “Now?”

“I _may have_ forgotten I promised her a video tour of the place tonight since she couldn’t see the inside before she left,” David replied. “Um, this is fine.” He waved a hand, and part of Stevie wanted to stomp over and break his stupid fingers. “Everybody act normal.”

“Oh, my _God_ ,” Stevie let out in one breath, running a hand through her hair. Ronnie shot her a significant glance before they all turned their gaze to David, who swiped to answer the phone. 

“Hey!” He said into the camera, voice cracking in the most not-normal way possible. _Good job, David. Nailing it._

And then Alexis’ voice came through, and just the sound of it made Stevie feel like her insides were leaping around in her body in a really grotesque way. “Oh em gee, _hi._ How’s the move? Tell me everything!”

“Um, it’s good,” David said, looking up from the phone to give Stevie something close to an apologetic look. A rarity, though Stevie was too bothered to appreciate it at the moment. “We’re just finishing up for now.” 

By this point Patrick had come to join David, wrapping his arms around him from behind and greeting Alexis with an awkward smile. 

Okay. If Stevie could just sneak out before David moved around too much with the phone, she could go unnoticed.

“Cute!” Stevie heard Alexis chirp as she started to stand up from the couch. “Did you get together your lil’ moving squad?”

She watched David go a little pale, and he glanced up at Stevie again. “Um. Yeah. Gang’s. Gang’s all here.”

“No,” Stevie mouthed silently. “David, _no._ ”

“Yay! Lemme say hi!”

And sure enough, as Stevie was in the middle of making her escape, she was greeted with David’s phone pointing directly at the couch, the screen facing her and Ronnie.

Even on the tiny screen, Alexis looked fucking incandescent. She appeared to be in her little kitchen—the one where they’d cooked mac and cheese together and made out a ton and … _fuck_. Why couldn’t she make her limbs move all of a sudden?

Alexis just waved, her smile somehow managing to brighten the night-lit room. “Ronnie! You look _so_ good!”

Ronnie shook her head, laughing. “I’ve been in this t-shirt for over twelve hours, Princess. Save the flattery for the next time you need to bail out your brother-in-law. Good to see you.”

Stevie pressed her lips together as she watched Alexis’ expression soften a bit, eyes trained on her. “Hey, Stevie.” The tiny phrase carried so much on its back. Stevie knew Alexis well enough by now to know that. "Hey" also meant, _How are you? Are you okay?_

Questions she didn’t know the answers to even if she wanted to respond.

“Um, hi,” Stevie muttered, followed by something that she hoped sounded like, “Gonna get some air,” and half-stumbled out the front door in a very normal not-weird way.

She walked out into the autumn air, wrapping her arms around herself as the chill blanketed her bare arms. The stars glistened in the clear night sky, and the still silence of the countryside was almost enough to drown out the sound of her quick-beating heart. Almost.

Patrick’s voice, lilted with the hint of laughter, was suddenly behind her. “I think that went well, all things considered.”

“Thanks. I hate you,” Stevie said flatly. She found herself laughing a little at the ridiculousness of it all. “Quick question: What do you say to someone you _ran out on_ in a panic and have been semi-ghosting ever since?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him walk over to stand beside her, arms crossed over his chest as he mimicked her gaze to the sky. He answered her query with another. “Are you still mad at her?”

Stevie paused. Honestly, she hadn’t let herself think about any of it since this past weekend, when she’d finally told David everything. Instead, she’d thrown herself into work, hoping if she did it for long enough things would go back to normal. Which, of course, was never going to happen.

“I mean, I don’t know.” She bit her lip. She thought of their last in-person conversation—how flustered and upset she’d been, how soft and vulnerable and regretful Alexis had been … “I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. But it’s just. Easier this way? This was, I dunno, the great sign from the universe that we’re better off as friends.” She forced a shrug. "And that’s … fine.”

“Sure,” Patrick replied after a beat of silence, clearly unconvinced, and Stevie nudged him in the side. Just then, they heard the front door open and shut again behind them. Stevie turned to see Ronnie retrieving her keys from her back pocket.

“All right. I’m heading out.”

“Ronnie, why don’t you stay for some dinner?” Patrick offered, and Stevie honestly would have fucking _loved_ to see that.

Ronnie threw him a withered look as she started to walk towards her truck parked on the street. “You kidding me? Have you met those two?” She tossed her head back toward the house. “That conversation isn’t gonna end any time soon, and Amara made chicken Milanese.” 

Stevie grinned and watched as Patrick nodded very seriously, taking a deep breath, looking as though he was about to profess his uncomfortable, yet undying, love for her. “Ronnie, thank—”

Ronnie called over her shoulder, cutting him off. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t bother.” Then she stopped, half-turning, looking at Stevie with a knowing expression. “Hey. Kid. Chin up. I’ve been there. However it feels right now, I’m telling you.” Her eyes never left Stevie’s as she finished, “It’s worth fighting for.”

“Uh,” said Stevie. “O-okay.”

She stood, feeling hot all over, for a few painstaking seconds, wondering idly if perhaps she could sink into the grass and plant herself there. Existing as a plant would work, right? As long as David remembered to water her …

She could feel Patrick looking at her. Once she heard Ronnie’s engine start, she muttered, “God, I hate living in a town the size of a fucking fruit fly.”

“You love it a little bit,” Patrick said, and he was right, as always. “Hey, I’m gonna go speed things along in there, ‘cause I’m _starving._ I’ll come get you when they’re done?”

Stevie nodded, and she felt Patrick squeeze her shoulder. She returned her attention to the stars, and thought how dumb it was that they shined like Alexis’ eyes do.

* * *

She’d only had a couple beers at the house. And maybe a few months ago she’d have told herself she would need at least three more to type this out. Not anymore.

Before this evening’s impossibly awkward virtual encounter, they hadn’t spoken since Saturday’s movie night. And for a while Stevie had decided that was for the best.

It was fine.

But she wanted more than fine.

And Alexis, whatever her flaws, whatever _both_ their flaws—made her feel good. Great, even. And making Alexis feel good made _Stevie_ feel good.

Maybe there was a chance. A sliver of one. And maybe it would be enough.

**[Sent 2:33am]  
** I miss you.

**[Sent 2:33am]  
** Just seeing your face on the screen. Which is dumb, but yeah.

**[Sent 2:33am]  
** You don’t have to respond to this.

**[Sent 2:34am]  
** Just wanted you to know.

* * *

The rest of the week seemed to move in drudging monotony or fits of activity—no in-between. Stevie sighed at Roland, braved smiles for Mr. Rose and for guests, and went home, occasionally stopping at the cottage to give her “stylistic opinion” as it came together (really, it was to give Patrick a break when David was being an actual monster).

Through it all, Stevie spent an inordinate amount of time checking her phone for a reply that, by the time rainy Sunday rolled around, she knew wasn’t coming.

“So, uh, Stevie.” She was on a call with Mr. Rose about stocking the New Jersey motels with Rose Apothecary toiletries, admittedly only half-paying attention until his voice seemed to change in tone, going a little soft. “I just want you to know how proud I am of you.” _Oh, boy._ “And you know, sometimes things _seem_ , well, they seem dire. But you can. You can always talkto me.”

_Oh, wow. I hate this so much_. “Um. Thank you, Mr. Rose,” Stevie muttered into the receiver. “Where … where is this coming from?”

“Well. It’s just that since New York you seem …” 

Stevie felt her entire body tense. Had her change in mood really been that obvious, even from across the continent? Fuck.

Mr. Rose’s voice piped up again: “You know what? It’s no big deal. But uh. If you ever need. You know. I’m just. Phone call.”

Despite the severe awkwardness of the situation, his stilted attempts at comfort, as always, were endearing. Of course, there was no chance in any realm of hell she was going to confide in Johnny Rose about her lovesickness over _his own fucking daughter._ But still.

Leave it to her family to always know when she wasn’t quite herself.

And even if Mr. Rose assumed anything … now there was nothing to assume. Becausethere was nothing going on between her and Alexis. At all.

Just as she was hanging up with him on the office phone, she saw her cell light up. The notification onscreen sent waves of panic from the depths of her chest to the tips of her fingers.

**Alexis [Received 1:09pm]**  
What should I bring to David’s on Saturday?

* * *

She burst into the store on her lunch break, alarming two customers perusing goat milk soaps toward the entrance.

David was adjusting some display boxes in the front window. He whirled around and half-growled through a stage whisper: “Hi, can you _not_ scare away our clientele?”

“Alexis is coming.” Stevie waved her phone in the air for emphasis. “To your party.”

From his place at the till, Patrick put his hands on his hips, sucking in a deep breath. “ _Is_ she? Wow, David. This is news to me. Did we order enough apps?”

It was actually _painful_ to watch him. Stevie crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Cut the bullshit, Brewer; you’re an awful liar.”

David shimmied his shoulders a little as he walked over to shuffle some of the mini hand creams at the register. “Right? It makes him sweat; it’s cute _and_ gross.”

“She’s asking _me_ what to bring,” Stevie went on, compulsively running a sweaty hand through her hair. “And you didn’t think to _tell_ me this?”

“Okay.” David rolled his eyes as Patrick ducked out to help the nearby perusers, and honestly, Stevie didn’t blame him for making an escape because she could _feel_ how manic she looked. “On the video call the other day she was _possibly_ crying a little, asking for advice on how to make things up to you, which was _so annoying_ —”

“ _David_.”

“—Right, um, and she asked if you’d be at our housewarming, and unlike my husband, I’m _not_ a liar, so I told her yeah, obviously. I’m mildly offended that she’s coming for _you_ under the guise of seeing my beautiful new home, but.” He quirked a brow at her, and she winced. “We all have our priorities.”

Caught somewhere between embarrassed and a little bit excited, Stevie stammered, “Well, when is she getting here?”

“Thursday, I think?” He shrugged, heading in his long strides toward the back wall to make way for Patrick to ring up the customers. Stevie found herself following in a panicked shuffle. “She’s allegedly helping set up on the day, but I’m not going to let her touch anything.”

For a few moments, Stevie simply stood in awe as David tinkered with various items, like this _wasn’t_ a big deal, like Alexis _wasn’t_ flying in from New York in a few days to inevitably _talk_ to Stevie about … well, everything.

David hummed a little, flashing a plastic smile at the two customers walking out the door before turning to face her. “By the way, next time this kind of fuckery goes on between the two of you? I’m staying out of it. Being in the middle is _not_ fun for me.”

“David,” was Patrick’s annoyingly reasonable voice as he made his way over to them. “Be patient. Do you remember how long we stared at each other wistfully from across the store before you made the first move?”

“Okay, but that was _cute_ and _flirty_. These two are trying to out-angst each other. Which is _entirely_ off-brand for Alexis, if not for Stevie.”

Stevie threw her hands up. “I’m _right_ here.”

“Anyway.” David waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t be stupid. Text back.” He closed the remaining space between himself and Patrick so they were standing side by side, looking at her as if her turmoil was a display at a zoo for human emotions. “Oh, and the answer is ‘alcohol.’ She knows the gin I like from that Brooklyn distillery.”

Stevie gaped at him, shaking her head incredulously. “I—why don’t _you_ just tell her? Why did she ask _me_?”

Patrick bit his lip and averted his eyes to the floor, and David squinted at her. “You know why. Now shoo. You’re giving off this really intense ‘anxiety-ridden dog’ vibe, and it’s not working for the store.”

“Oh, it’s not working?” As she began backing toward the door, Stevie made a show of pretending to reach into the front pocket of her jeans, digging around for something, before producing a crude middle finger.

“I’m so sorry. My best friend neglected to tell me his sister, whom I am on _very weird_ terms with, is rolling into town.”

“Ugh!” David threw his head back and hunched up his shoulders, and Patrick had long stopped attempting to hide his pure delight at the entire situation. Stevie thought she’d never hated two people more in her life. “Alexis told me not to say anything! I thought I was _helping_!”

Stevie whirled around one last time at the exit. “You … you suck. You both _suck_ ,” she said. _Fighting words_.

As she made her way out of the store, she heard Patrick calling after her, “We love and support you!” followed by David’s snippy, “Don’t encourage her.”

* * *

Conflicting thoughts swam in her head as Stevie made her way home that evening, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. The rain was a relief on her skin—despite the November cold, she felt hot all over. 

Truthfully, she was confused. Alexis hadn’t responded to any of the texts Stevie had sent on moving day—some of the most vulnerable things she’d ever said to anyone. And now, days later, Alexis was acting like nothing had happened, asking about housewarming presents. Like Stevie hadn’t nearly fallen apart just looking at her on a tiny phone screen.

But maybe that nonchalance had been intentional. Perhaps this was finally it. This was Alexis taking an opportunity to visit her brother and to officially call off this thing with Stevie—whatever it was. And that was something Stevie would just have to prepare herself for. Luckily, if David’s timing was correct, she had a few days to do that.

As she approached her apartment building, she immediately noticed something wasn’t quite right—namely, a figure stood at her front door, shadowed by the rainclouds above.

But she could just make out the big, floppy hat in the tall silhouette. 

_Oh, fffffuuuuuuckkkkkkkk._

Stevie thought for a millisecond that she could turn around. She could sleep at the motel. That wasn’t weird. Right? 

But it was too late now. She felt her limbs moving, pace quickening, heart stuttering because even though she had no idea what she’d say when she got there, she couldn’t think about anything else but being near this person again, this open-book enigma, this messy, perfect,beautiful—

They stood in front of each other for a long moment.

Alexis Rose’s hair was damp with rain water. Her eyes were a little glassy. She smiled softly at Stevie and said, breaking the silence between them:

“Hi.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie and Alexis finally have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I can't believe we're at the end of the road! I've had so much fun writing this. I really appreciate everyone's enthusiasm surrounding the story. We do need more WLW fic in this fandom and I'm glad to have helped contribute to the space.
> 
> Thanks to @LilLesbianLauren for looking this over. <3
> 
> Here is the final chapter, but look out for the epilogue in the coming days!
> 
> You can find me @stevierosebudds on Twitter and @vulcantastic on Tumblr if you'd like to chat about all things SC!

Stevie stared at Alexis. Stared some more, until she realized she hadn’t blinked for some time and rainwater was very much getting into her eyes.

Finally, she managed to tumble through a question that turned out more like a statement: “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

Alexis shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself, lips upturned in a bashful smile. “Yeah. I know.”

Silence fell between them again. Stevie felt a little nauseous.

Alexis wore a navy polka-dot sweater and a flowy skirt, a light green jacket draped over her shoulders. Her face was made up, of course, and she looked perfect. What else was new? Yet Stevie had seen her in the early morning, bare and covered in the remnants of moonlight, and she’d looked just as beautiful then, too.

She wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around this bright light of a person, to feel as she once had in Alexis’ long, lanky arms, to re-memorize the curves of her body, the birthmarkslike a map on her skin.

It was so fucking ridiculous. How could someone Stevie had spent so little time with—in _that_ way—have this much of a pull on her?

Her conscience poked in, bringing her back to the moment. _It’s raining, you idiot. Invite her inside_. “Uh,” Stevie muttered, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. “Do you want—” 

But Alexis cut her off, nodding behind her in the direction of the cafe. “Any chance you wanna grab dinner?”

* * *

They walked into Cafe Tropical, Stevie picking at the nail on her left index finger incessantly, because what does “wanna grab dinner” even mean when you’re on such awkward terms with someone?

Suddenly she wanted to turn around and go home. She still had time. She could pretend tohave to use the restroom and then climb out the window in there. (It wouldn’t be the first time, either.)

Her thoughts were interrupted by a little screech of delight from Alexis beside her as she shuffled in her heeled booties toward the corner of the cafe.

Stevie had to admit it: the way Twyla’s eyes lit up at the sight of Alexis walking through the door looked like something out of a rom-com. She wasn’t entirely convinced that not everyone in Schitt’s Creek was in love with Alexis Rose. Which. Fair.

Twyla practically skipped over from the corner table she’d been waiting on, shoving her pad in her apron before flinging her arms around Alexis’ neck, squealing, “You’re back so soon!”

“Um, duh,” Alexis replied easily. God, Stevie envied her nonchalance. "I wasn’t gonna let my brother plan a party without me! You’re coming to his housewarming, right?”

“Oh, yeah! I mean, I think he forgot to invite me, but that’s okay. Patrick did …”

Stevie tuned out their conversation, fixing her gaze on a small crack in the diner tile floor. How was this her life? How was it that just a couple of weeks ago, she’d sat here with Patrick, confessing just how many butterflies this particular Rose gave her? And how was it that she was now about to have an entirely different conversation, with the very person who’d created this fucking fluttering monarch garden in the pit of her stomach, about how they’re going to be just friends?

That was what Stevie was prepared to do, anyway. It would be less awkward for everyone involved, especially David. 

And they’d be friends, and Stevie would keep missing Alexis until eventually things hurt a little less, and she’d move on. And that would be that.

She blindly followed Twyla and Alexis to a booth, immediately wringing her hands in her lap once she was settled, staring down at the table as Twyla placed menus in front of them and said something about coming right back to take their order.

After a few painstakingly silent moments, Stevie let her gaze flick upward. She watched Alexis take several seconds to fully open the menu, which seemed even bigger than usual as she navigated it with her delicate hands. “Ooh. Boy. _Wow_! I forgot about all the, um. Options.”

Stevie gulped. She was too tired, and Alexis was too beautiful, and she needed to get to the point of their inevitable discussion before she lost her nerve. Or her mind. Or both.

“David said you weren’t coming until Thursday,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Alexis put the sprawling menu down on the table, clearly resigned to the fact that Steviewasn’t even going to _attempt_ small talk. “Totally. Um. I did tell him that,” she replied, and then added carefully, “And then I booked a flight right after.”

“… W-why?” Was it possible to choke on air? If so, Stevie was definitely doing it.

Alexis narrowed her big blue eyes a little. “I think you know why.”

Stevie felt her heart sink, lower and lower until she felt like maybe it was no longer in her body. This was it. And before she let herself let Alexis let her down gently, she ensured she was the one to speak up first.

“Look, I’m sorry our last …. interaction was really awkward, and I’m sorry about what I sent you the other day. I know it was a lot—”

But Alexis held up a finger, cutting her off. “No,” she said, and her tone was almost sharp, unlike anything Stevie had ever heard from her before. “Stevie, you sending me those texts is what brought me here.”

_Oh_. “Wh—” Stevie had just managed to stutter out a single syllable when Twyla hopped over once more, blinking in expectation at the two of them. Stevie wasn’t sure if it was her paranoia or not, but it seemed like the look carried more significance than a simple, “Can I take your order?”

Small fucking towns, man.

“Um.” She cleared her throat. She knew she was blushing a probably appalling shade of pink, and upon feeling her stomach do yet another flip, she said: “I’ll just get a coffee, actually.”

Alexis, meanwhile, grinned up at Twyla with all the confidence in the world. “And I will have the Greek salad! Dressing—”

“On the side,” Twyla finished for her, and Alexis beamed at her with affection. “I got ya! Be right back with those.”

Stevie watched the smile disappeared from Alexis’ face as Twyla walked away. The solemnity of her stare sent a little shiver down Stevie’s spine. Not even when they’d first acted on their feelings for each other had Alexis looked so serious.

“Stevie, um.” Finally it seemed her facade of calm had started to break, and she cracked a little bit of a panicked smile, letting out a shaky laugh. “I thought I’d really freaking _blown it_. With you. With us. And I kind of did.”

_Me too_ , Stevie thought, because no matter how many times she imagined it, she could never undo walking away from Alexis like that, and it none of it had even been even a big deal, anyway, and now Alexis was about to end things and it would all be—

“But when I saw your texts the other day, I knew I had to at least, um, try.”

“Try,” Stevie echoed. Her head suddenly felt very heavy, as if she was underwater. What was Alexis even getting at?

“I know you’ve been hurt a lot,” Alexis went on. At this point her elbows were on the table and she was fidgeting with a ring on her left thumb. But she wasn’t looking away. Alexis never looked away. In that regard, she was fearless. Stevie had always admired that. “And I know you deserve, like, _so_ much better than how you’ve been treated.”

Stevie felt the hot pangs of shame, of embarrassment, shuddering through her body. Perhaps she had been foolish to open up to Alexis about her past. Was Alexis really going to let her down with a bonus invitation to a pity party thrown on Stevie’s behalf?

But then Alexis _kept talking_ , which of course was not unusual—although the slight tremor in her voice definitely was.

“I _was_ trying to break it off with Mark that day. And when you left I called him and ended it. I think I was, um. I think I was just really scared?” The upturn of her voice echoed the bare honesty of the statement. “I was scared that, like, I was actually falling for someone for the first time since Ted. And of what that would mean. For me.”

_Falling for someone._ Silence fell as they let the phrase hang there for a moment, filling the space between them. Stevie bit down hard on the inside of her lip. _Falling for someone. Falling for someone—_

Alexis let her hands drop to the surface of the table. Usually so expressive with her gestures, she now sat completely still. It was almost unnerving. “I _loved_ Ted. We helped each other grow in ways that…some ways I didn’t even, like, realize until after we’d split up.” She paused, appearing try to suss out Stevie’s reaction, which was bold of her, because _Stevie_ couldn’t even figure out just what the fuck she was feeling right now besides all those fucking butterflies. 

“But we _split up_ , Stevie. We were _literally_ going in different directions. And we decided it was better to keep a good thing _good_ , even if that meant letting it go.”

Stevie couldn’t exactly place why there were tears pricking her eyes. Perhaps it was because, for once, she felt like a _good thing._ For herself, for someone else.

Another good thing—about to be let go.

“But.” Alexis had clearly seen the change in Stevie’s expression, for she added almost urgently, “ _But_ , leaving this town I realized there was so much _else_ I loved about it.” She began twirling her hair a little. “Like. Um.” She shot her glance down at the table briefly before returning her gaze to Stevie. "This cafe and its really big menu. And listening to Twyla sing along to the radio, ‘cause she has a nice voice.”

She went on, lips forming a wistful smile, “The really watery drinks at The Wobbly Elm. David’s stupid hipster store that makes me way prouder of him than I want to even _touch_ right now.” She tilted her head to side thoughtfully. “Bob always tipping his hat to me. He doesn’t even _wear_ a hat. It’s an _imaginary_ hat, Stevie—”

“—Yeah, I don’t think he ever mentally left his Cabaret days—”

“And you, Stevie.” Stevie watched the corner of Alexis’ mouth twitch upwards. She wanted to kiss it. “You always made me smile. And you’re really smart. And you’re honest. You make me think of things differently. And, like, when I thought of home, I thought of the motel, and I thought of you. So, um, I texted you. And I didn’t think you’d text me back, and, well, now here we are.”

“Here we are.” Stevie let out a shaky breath, looking down at her lap, noticing she’d beenbouncing her knee for a while. The floor was open now. It was her turn. And before she could wish for several minutes and a drink to think of what to say, she started speaking, lest her anxiety render her silent.

“I know you were trying to break up with him,” she said, calling back to Alexis’ first point. “I just, um. My instinct is to…to just let people leave. Give them every chance to. Because just when I think they’re actually gonna stay …”

She trailed off, the images flashing through her mind—of her parents, of a plethora of college boyfriends, of Emir. No one had ever stayed. And maybe that had been for the best—

“I know.” Alexis’ voice, steady, sure, cut through her thoughts. “But you don’t have to worry anymore.”

And then Stevie looked up again, and thought she might just fall into the ocean of Alexis’ eyes, and that would be okay. _Not a bad way to go._

Who was she kidding?

These feelings for Alexis Rose would never simply disappear. No matter how long she would try to wait them out, they’d always be there, humming in the cavity of her chest and in her throat, daring to burst from their encasement.

And if Alexis had helped remind her of anything, it was that Stevie deserved better than that. Better than hiding away in a prison of her own making, of years being forced to build walls high enough to touch the clouds.

It was okay to want something more.

She cleared her throat, refusing to let her eyes trail from Alexis’ gaze to her very pretty lips or to the ground where she felt most comfortable. “You sound really sure about that,” she said, surprised at the hoarse emotion in her own voice.

Alexis smiled, soft and sweet. “Well, I’m, like, a pretty confident person. So.”

Stevie felt the sweat beading on her forehead, and she knew her hands were probably really sticky and hot, but she had to. She had to do this.

If Alexis was going to try, then she would, too.

She reached across the table and held out her hand. It felt as though not even a millisecond passed before Alexis clutched her fingers, squeezing tight.

“I’m.” Stevie looked down at their hands, not even bothering at this point to keep her own from shaking just a little. “I’m happy you’re here.” _Vulnerability. That’s how this works, right? Am I finally doing it?_

Alexis flashed her a signature toothy grin—the first of the evening, and almost enough to melt Stevie into a puddle on the ground. “Me too.”

Stevie could hear Twyla’s bouncing footsteps behind her, and normally her instinct would be to pull away. But Alexis didn’t let go, so neither would she.

Twyla placed the coffee in front of Stevie and the salad in front of Alexis, and then sort of darted her glance between them with a knowing wiggle of her eyebrows. “You guys enjoy, okay?”

She made a show of scurrying off at which Stevie couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Alexis gave her fingers one more tight squeeze before picking up her fork. “So.”

“So.” Stevie sipped her coffee, realizing now that much of her anxiety had dissipated that she was really fucking hungry. “How’s work been?”

Alexis took a bite of salad and raised her gaze to the ceiling much like her brother was wont to do. “ _Totally_ annoying. I mean, I’m working on promoting Interflix’s new reality competition show about doll-makers, but.” She shrugged. “I’ve been a little _distracted_ recently.”

And then she did one of her little winks that was really just blinking, and Stevie thought she couldn’t possibly have any more affection for anyone, ever. She tried not to let it show, because she might be in the throes of a new … whatever this was with Alexis, but she still had her dignity, dammit. Or some of it, anyway.

She figured the way she was pressing her lips together to keep from smiling like a loon was a pretty dead giveaway, though.

They chatted comfortably for a while, and when Twyla brought over the check Stevie watched as Alexis’ expression turned a little sheepish.

“I left my stuff with Roland in the motel lobby, um.” She tucked a few strands of air behind herear. “He said there’s a room available, so I can—”

Stevie threw some bills on the table and said, “Come on.” She started sliding out of the booth, making her way toward the exit. _Exude confidence. Exude nonchalance. You’re good at this_. 

She fixed her gaze on the door, thinking if she turned back to Alexis she’d lose all resolve. “We can go pick up your luggage on the way back,” she continued. She made eye contact briefly with Twyla, who was giving her two thumbs up and a cheeky grin which was all kinds of uncomfortable.

Alexis’ clacking heels were close behind her. “Um, back where?”

Stevie paused at the door and half-turned, crossing her arms over her chest, attempting to convey mock solemnity in her expression. “For your reference, I sleep on the right side of the bed, and also if you’re looking for any semblance of food in my refrigerator, I’m very sorry to say you will _not_ find it. Unless the snack you’re looking for is expired eggs.”

Alexis replied succinctly, “Ew,” but she was smiling.

Stevie bit down on a triumphant grin as they let the cafe. _Smoothly invite a girl back to your place: check._

* * *

It was the first time since all this had started that Stevie wasn’t tangled in her sheets alone.

Alexis had a lazy leg draped over both of Stevie’s own, face tucked into the crook of her neck as Stevie idly played with her hair. Clothes half-abandoned on the floor. The taste of Alexis in her mouth and the touch of her making goosebumps crawl on her skin. And this time, Stevie let herself believe it was happening.

“I keep thinking about the puzzle thing,” she heard Alexis murmur into her skin after a moment. “I spent, like, so much time focused on you finding your pieces, I didn’t even really think about mine.”

Stevie bit her lip and peered up at the ceiling. _This perfect, silly person._

Alexis went on, “I didn’t know what it was like to have them all scrambled up until you walked out of my apartment that day.”

Stevie pressed a kiss to the top of her head and replied, voice thick, “M’sorry for all the scrambling.”

“Me too.” Stevie felt the weight on top of her shift as Alexis sat up a little, lifting her head toward her with those big eyes. “And is this … is this, with us, still what, um. What you want? Is this where the pieces fall for you?”

She watched Alexis splaying her heart before Stevie, wavy hair falling a little in front of her face, expression hopeful. She frowned thoughtfully, staring straight ahead.

She’d never been a bullshitter.

“I like being alone,” she said slowly. She let a few beats pass between them, letting the truth of it wash over them both. And then she said, “But I realized I like being alone with you more.” 

Stevie looked down and Alexis was beaming, a real smile that reached the crinkles of her eyes. “I was _super_ hoping you’d say that.”

Stevie shook her head, moving her finger under Alexis’ chin, tilting her face towards her as she laughed into a kiss. For a while they simply lie there, breathing each other in, until the soft silence between them was broken by a low growl.

“Oh my _god,_ Stevie, is that your stomach?”

“Hey. I was nervous, okay?” Stevie found her voice getting higher and higher in self-defense. “I didn’t wanna eat anything earlier.”

But Alexis just giggled, sitting back against the pillows and reaching for her phone on the bedside table. “That’s so cute and so dumb,” she said, to which Stevie nudged her gently in the ribs. “We’re ordering pizza. Half mushrooms for you, I _do not_ associate with those. It’s a _slime_ thing, I think?”

Stevie looked at her and thought, _I think I kind of love you_. 

But that was a conversation for another time.

Stevie had no idea where this journey would take them—and normally that would make her anxious. But with Alexis, she felt safe. She felt that things could only get better.They could only help each other _be_ better.

It was refreshing to feel that way for the first time.

She wasn’t about to let that pass her by.

And as Alexis tossed her phone to the end of the bed, food order completed, and began peppering Stevie’s face with kisses until Stevie’s resolve broke and she was smiling like an idiot and _not_ trying to hide it, she knew she wouldn’t have to.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie and Alexis attend David and Patrick's housewarming party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all she wrote! Again, thanks for coming on the ride with me. I really hope you enjoy this last little snippet. I wanted to keep Alexis and Stevie's story open-ended, because there's so many possibilities as to where their relationship could go, as well as where their careers and individual journeys will continue to take them.
> 
> I don't think I'm finished writing in this universe, so look out for some oneshots or drabbles featuring these two, together. :)
> 
> Thanks to Lauren for reading this last chapter over. And thank you, again, for reading!

Stevie didn’t have time to react to Alexis immediately grabbing her hand as they walked into the brightly lit cottage. She didn’t have time to think, _Is this too soon?_ Or, _Will I embarrass us by being awkward?_ Or, _Is David going to make this a big deal?_

Because Alexis’ fingers were already twined with hers just as they both stepped through the front door, and no sooner had they done so was Patrick pulling them both into a giant bear hug.

He handed Stevie a cold beer already uncapped as he pulled away—a true hero—before sipping his own. “Alexis,” he sighed,” I don’t know if David and I would’ve gotten those party favors together without your help earlier. You’re a life-saver.”

Alexis rolled her eyes with a smile. “I know, right? David _never_ listens to me until the last second. Gold ties around the bags give off a _way_ warmer vibe than silver. Like, was he _asleep_ for half our family parties?”

Stevie frankly had no idea what Alexis was talking about and decided to focus on how she looked around, dangling earrings making little tinkling noises as she tossed her head. “Ugh, the house looks _so cute_. Doesn’t it, Stevie?”

Stevie made a show of shrugging her shoulders. “It’s all right, I guess.”

She barked out a laugh as Patrick frantically shot his gaze around the room like she’d just pronounced Voldemort’s name aloud. “Don’t let my husband hear you.”

“Are you kidding? I want to live through the night.”

As if on cue, David materialized beside them in the foyer with Roland and Jocelyn Schitt in tow, evidently having just given his first tour of many. “So, um, yeah! That’s the house. Or, most of it. Welcome!”

Roland nodded, hands planted on his hips in a serious stance. “Like what you’ve done with the place, Dave.”

“Yeah, Dave, I agree,” Stevie couldn’t help but echo, and perhaps she would _not_ make it through the night, but the glare David shot her was so fucking worth it. From beside her, she heard Alexis exhale the light bell of a laugh just under her breath.

“Hey, uh, listen though. I didn’t wanna be the one to have to tell you this, but.” Roland made a too-loud sucking noise and pointed at the modern painting Stevie had helped Patrick hang above the couch in the living room. “That painting isn’t finished yet. Jumped the gun a little bit hanging it up.”

David simply stared at him in horror while Jocelyn patted Roland’s arm. “Rollie, I think it’s _supposed_ to look that way.” She beamed at David and Patrick. “The house looks beautiful, boys. I just can’t wait to bring Roland Jr. over to play in the little yard out back!”

“Of course!” Patrick exclaimed, too cheerily, at the same time David fumbled with an, “Absolutely n— _sure_!” 

Jocelyn shook her head fondly, turning to Stevie and Alexis. “He just _loves_ grass. Can’t get enough of it.”

“ _Cute_!” Alexis squeaked, squinting and making her mouth really small in the way that meant she was trying very hard to pretend to care. It was equal parts hilarious and adorable.

And then Roland excused himself and his wife so he could make them both “a stiff one” at the bar Patrick had set up in the kitchen, and then it was just the four of them at the front of the house. Stevie looked up at Alexis, who was already looking at her, a subtle tease in her expression.

“So like, how much do you hate being here with all these people?” Alexis inquired, voice just above a whisper, smiling big as Roland and Jocelyn made their way past and cast them a significant look.

“So much,” Stevie retorted, taking a swig of beer.

She reluctantly broke their eye contact to find that David was doing this sort of panicky, floppy shaking thing with his hands while Patrick patted his shoulder soothingly.

“It’s a housewarming, David,” he said calmly, “We’re _warming up_ the _new_ house. Not everything is going to be perfect.”

David pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay, don’t ever say ‘warming up the new house’ again. We’re not putting it in a microwave.” Stevie watched Patrick dip his head to the pristine wood floor, clearly hiding a smirk. “I just. I think I’m regretting that vase placement in the hallway?”

Patrick slinked an arm around David’s waist and kissed his cheek. “I know. You’re gonna get through this.”

Alexis’ eyeroll was so pronounced Stevie could practically hear it, and she couldn’t help but let out a tiny laugh through her nose as Alexis huffed, “Oh my _god,_ David, calm down. Everything looks fine.” She ran her free hand through her hair, letting her fingers rest at her shoulder where she played with the little blonde ringlets there. “Like, you could say _too_ fine. It could be a museum.”

David shot his sister a withering look, and Stevie thought, oh, maybe we’re _both_ going to die in this house tonight.

But then Stevie watched him peer down at Alexis and Stevie’s laced fingers and do that sort of sideways smile thing, brown eyes big and soft and open. Beside him, Patrick looked on with a goofy grin on his face.

_Ah, fuck._

“ _What_ , David?” Alexis snipped at the same time Stevie threatened, bottle in the air, “Keep staring and I’ll dump this stout on _both of you._ ”

“Mhm. Yeah.” David crossed his arms over his chest. “ _So_ glad you both could join us this evening—”

“David,” Patrick chided, that annoyingly high-spirited look in his eyes, “be nice—”

“— I’m surprised you haven’t run off to make out in the hall closet by now.”

Stevie threw her free hand over her mouth despite herself. She looked up at Alexis in shock, who scrunched up her nose. “Ew, David!” She half-shrieked. “What are you, twelve?”

Patrick, who to Stevie’s chagrin had clearly given up on reigning in his husband, pretended to be examining the label of his IPA very intently while David went on: “I mean, I’ve _barely_ seen my best friend since you kidnapped her earlier this week, so.”

“ _Excuse_ me.” Alexis abruptly let go of Stevie’s hand to begin gesticulating madly between the two of them, which Stevie was marginally grateful for, lest she and Alexis give David any further content to work with. (Also, her hand was getting kind of sweaty.) “ _You_ see her all the time. I need my Stevie fix.”

_Oh,_ _wow_. “Thanks, I’m so uncomfortable right now.” Stevie lifted her beer bottle in a ‘cheers’ motion. Patrick closed the space between theirs with a _clink_ in solidarity.

She shot her glance to David and immediately regretted it, as the glare he was giving her appeared to be enough to fuel a hundred suns. “If you leave me for my sister I’m never speaking to you again.”

“I— _what_?” Stevie stammered. “Are you _insane_?” Of course he was; she wasn’t sure why she bothered to waste the breath to ask.

“Ooh.” Alexis shimmied her shoulders. “Jealous, David?” And Stevie contemplated the sweet release of death.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted what very well could have turned into an all-out sibling brawl, and Stevie said a silent thank-you to whatever deity was up there for the interruption.

“I’ll get it—I think that’s Ray,” Patrick said, heading towards the front door. “Get ready for another tour, David. And for all our seltzer to mysteriously disappear.”

David shook his head and supplied for Stevie and Alexis, “He’s weirdly obsessed with La Croix lately. Says it makes him feel ‘fancy.’” Then he made a little _shoo_ gesture, grinning playfully. “‘Kay, run along, you two. You’ve seen the house already.”

But Stevie wasn’t about to let go that little look from a few moments prior. Not when David’s eyes had softened like that at their entwined hands; not when David, who was notoriously awful at expressing himself, had done so openly, even in a flash of a second. David was her best friend. He should’ve known that she would pick up on something like that.

David was right—they hadn’t really talked much leading up to the party. Alexis had been splitting her time between catching up with her brother, hopping on conference calls, and, well. Doing an altogether _different_ kind of catching up with Stevie, a routine incorporation into her busy schedule which Stevie was _not_ going to complain about. And when Stevie herself wasn’t working, she had been spending as much time as she could with Alexis, who had a finite amount of time in Schitt’s Creek before New York City called her back.

So, sure. David was probably a little ticked off he’d seen less of Stevie than the daily interactions he was used to. Honestly, it was weird for Stevie too.

But amidst his performative jealousy, there was something else. Something much more real.

“Right. Sure. Um.” Stevie nodded slowly. “I’m gonna need you to say it, though, David. While the both of us are here.”

Stevie alternated her gaze between the two of them for a moment. It was strange, seeing both Rose siblings look at her with the exact same expression of pure puzzlement. All in the brows, a trait undoubtedly bestowed upon them from their dad.

“Say _what_?” David snapped after a few seconds of silence, but Stevie _knew_ he knew, so she took another swig and simply waited. She could practically feel Alexis vibrating next to her with anticipation, and yeah, maybe it was a little too fucking fun to rile them both up like this at the same time.

Finally, David threw his hands in the air, and Stevie knew she had won. “Ugh. Fine. _Fine_!” He peered up at the ceiling and muttered, practically through his teeth: “It’s nice to see you both… happy. _I’m_ happy for you.” By the time he met Stevie’s eyes again she knew she was possibly sporting the cheesiest grin of the century. “Happy?” 

“Aw, _David_!” Alexis bounced up and down a few times, standing close enough to Stevie that the fabric of her sleeve rubbed against Stevie’s arm. “That’s _so_ sweet.”

David narrowed his eyes.“Stop. Go away now. I have _guests_ to greet,” he said curtly. He nodded once in the direction of the kitchen. “And for the love of god, eat the _hors d’oeuvres_. Except the crostini bruschetta.”

Alexis nodded vigorously in mock solemnity as Stevie concluded, “You just want some left over to hoard in the fridge for later, don’t you?”

“Ooh! _Burn,_ David!”

David turned on his heel, calling behind him, “I don’t have to answer that.”

And then for a little while, Stevie was on her own with Alexis, who, of course, launched right into mingling with as many people as she could. After all, David and Patrick’s guest list seemed to include the entire town, and Alexis had a lot of people to catch up on her New York adventures.

For the first half-hour or so, Stevie found herself trying to keep busy with a bunch of little things—grabbing Alexis a drink, eating at least four too many fried mozzarella balls, listening to Bob drunk-cry about Gwen for a few minutes, helping Patrick with ice refills.

Because no matter how she tried to quell it, she felt the familiar anxiety creeping up behind her just a bit. _What if people ask too many questions? Yeah, we’re together. But are we … girlfriends? Do we_ have to _know that yet?_

But when she finally ran out of activities to do, she forced herself to stand next to Alexis once more, who was talking animatedly with Ronnie and Amara about bakeries in Chelsea. Once Stevie shuffled up beside her, she felt a hand immediately brace the small of her back. Steadying her.

Because of course Alexis had noticed her apprehension. Alexis noticed everything.

Ronnie nodded at her knowingly, and Stevie felt her face get hot. “Well, Alexis,” she drawled, “it’s nice of you to take some time out of your busy life to come visit little old us.” She half-grinned. “I’m sure Stevie here was a nice motivator.”

Alexis’ hand remained on Stevie’s back, the warmth of it teasing through the fabric of her flannel. “Totally,” she said, and Stevie couldn’t help it, dammit, she looked up at her and those blue eyes were shining, and the worries that had been shouting in Stevie’s mind all night began to get just a little quieter.

Alexis Rose, one of the highest-energy and most animated people she’d ever known, somehow managed to _calm Stevie down._

And if that wasn’t proof that they should be standing there together tonight, side by side, Stevie didn’t know what was.

After a beat, she figured she might as well take advantage of the slight stillness that finally settled over her. And Stevie knew nothing if not how to play it cool.

So she piped up, “I can be very persuasive,” which got an unusual multi-syllable laugh from Ronnie and a playful swat of the arm from Alexis, who was now blushing a very light, barely noticeable shade of pink. 

Alexis didn’t blush easily. Stevie filed away the moment as what she hoped was her first victory of many.

They made small talk for a bit longer, gradually making their way toward the makeshift bar so Alexis could mix herself another drink. Once they entered the room, Stevie realized it was the first time all night they’d been alone.

Alexis whirled around at the kitchen table, glass in hand. “Whew.” Her eyes bugged out a little bit as she let out an exaggerated exhale. _“Exhausting_ , right?”

Stevie snorted. “Please.” She knocked her shoulder against Alexis’ teasingly as she reached behind her to grab a too-fancy pumpernickel cracker, popping it into her mouth. “You’re totally loving the attention.”

“Well, duh.” Alexis booped Stevie’s nose with her free hand. “But if it helps, I like yours best.”  


Stevie grinned. “I’m honored.”

And then in a surprisingly tender gesture, Alexis reached out and ran her fingers lightly through Stevie’s hair. “You okay, babe?”

The touch felt _amazing_ , and suddenly Stevie was sort of debating abandoning the party altogether in favor of dragging Alexis back to her place for all the cuddling they’d perfected over the last several days.

“Yeah,” she finally replied. And she meant it.

That was something she would have to get used to.

She leaned up, pressing a light kiss to Alexis’ lips. She felt Alexis smile into it, and she thought, _You’re perfect_ , but Alexis being Alexis undoubtedly already knew that, and if not, Stevie hoped she was effectively communicating the sentiment in the way she was lightly grazing her tongue along the inside of her mouth, in the way she placed a gentle hand on Alexis’ hip, in the way she couldn’t hide the short, breathy laugh of unmasked joy that escaped her when they broke apart.

It took her probably far too long to notice Patrick standing in the kitchen doorway behind them, looking fond.

“Hey. Lovebirds.” He wiggled his eyebrows, likely in response to the look of utter disdain Stevie threw him. “I’m not sure if you hear Mrs. Rose screaming about ‘debonair decor’ from the other side of the house—” He used air quotes for what was clearly a Moira Rose Original Phrase. “—But David’s giving a video tour.”

“Oh god.” Stevie ran a hand over her face. “Is Mr. Rose on, too? Has he figured out the ‘unmute’ button on his tablet yet?” 

“Yes, and I think so?” He shrugged. “I’m sure they’d love to see you both. You know. _Together._ At the same time. Standing very close to each other.”

“Ugh, _Patrick,_ ” Alexis whined while Stevie snapped, “What if you shut up for five minutes, Brewer?”

His cheeky smile never left his face as he backed out the doorway, waving for them to follow him. “Come say hi! We’re heading upstairs now.”

As he walked away, Stevie turned her attention back to Alexis, who chirped, “Woof. You ready to deal with my mom?”

Stevie shook her head firmly. “Nope. Are you?”

Alexis scrunched up her nose a little. “Not at all.”

What was unspoken, of course, was that Alexis hadn’t yet told her parents about the recent developments in her relationship with Stevie, and of course, Stevie hadn’t said anything. 

And if they hadn’t already figured it out, well. They surely would now.

Alexis was looking at her expectantly, and she looked beautiful in the saturated kitchen lighting—lips full and a little red and kissed, eyes vibrant cerulean, hair aglow.

And Stevie understood.

She’d spent most of tonight worried—worried that her surely perpetually flushed face and little stutters and stolen glances at the woman across from her would somehow “give her away.” Would let all of Schitt’s Creek in on her little secret—that she was genuinely happy right now.

But now, Stevie realized something very important.

She didn’t care.

She didn’t fucking _care_ if she came off smitten or silly or any of it. She’d lived in this town her whole life, and in that time, she’d never been anything but herself.

And she still was—just with an Alexis Rose on her arm, at her best friends’ housewarming party, and honestly, she’d never felt _more_ like herself.

And they didn’t have to put a label on their relationship yet, didn’t owe an explanation to anyone. They had time to figure it out. As long as Stevie was willing to keep herself as open and unafraid as Alexis was, they had all the time in the world.

Now, Stevie was the one to hold out her hand, finding herself exuding a confidence she thought she'd buried deep long ago. “Let’s go?”

Alexis smiled big and placed her hand in Stevie’s, giving her fingers a quick squeeze.

And as they walked out of the kitchen hand in hand, Stevie hoped she didn’t have to tell Alexis—that by the look she was giving her, a small smile tugging at her features and eyes bright, Alexis just knew—that it felt to Stevie like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Twitter @stevierosebudds or Tumblr @vulcantastic!


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